Can we celebrate, do we have that choice,
to fight against sour momentum and rejoice?

Of course we do - there've been vaccine changes,
hope hangs like fragrance, so let’s be courageous.

Forget anger, forgive old grudges and stop tiring judgments,
catch those old phantoms in the open and sever the attachments.

Stop, drop and roll - this year necessitated endurance -
be honest and transparent, tell children and inform parents:

This year’s celebration will need to be realistic -
but Christmas '21 we’re goin’ BALLISTIC!

My room is a mess - it's an archaeological record of boredom.
Christmas, Christmas, come on Christmas.
It's 4 days 'til Christmas. Why don't I go to my room and do NOTHING??

The clock ticking sounds like a large horse clomping over cobble stones.
Last year there were wall-to-wall parties - so many that you had to carry a change of clothes with you.

In 2020 there's nothing to do - but I don't have to tell YOU (my reader). Except for the whole school thing. Nothing to do but study. I read, on that webber-net thing that 38% of students are failing.

Because of the pandemic - oh, not that virus monster - the boredom pandemic - the London-tower-lonely state of slow-motion distress that’s invisibly gripped us all.

Can we hold on people? The hard-won, delicious truth is that there’s hope. Vaccines - a bunch of 'em. Is it possible to let worries go this season and simply treasure our lives?

Just this month we have or had Hanukah, Kwanza, Festivus.
Hopefully, you made wild, monkey-love on December 14th - that was "International Monkey Day" - I couldn't join you - of course - but I'm just sayin.  =]

Look it up - almost every day is some kind of celebration or invent your own - if Ice Cream Day, Lemon Cupcake Day, Go Caroling Day or Crossword Puzzle Day don't do it for ya.

The important gifts, this year, are fun, attention and love.

The earth is twirling,
oh, God, make it stop.
If it keeps on spinning,
I think I’ll throw up.

The way Earth orbits the sun,
it's dangerous and thoughtless.
Can we just knock it off?
It's making me nauseous.

They say they run in packs
with the mighty unicorn.
The stories bridge the boundary
between faith and Internet ****.

Oh, the elusive boyfriend.

I thought I’d hidden one in the closet,
but I rummaged top to bottom
then remembered - argh! -
I lost him last August!

(a Senryu string poem)

High school girls are just
thoughtless and vague - too ****
dumb to be afraid.

Trusting too quickly
- believing things that are said
- unaware of risk.

Small and powerless,
chickens cooped from feral foxes
- peaches for picking.

So accompany
me on walks, to the store and
guard me like a penny.

Look - we're women
- junior grade - and conscious
of dark potential.

Breasted Americans
face a dark rainbow of threats
- we are mortal.

But ANY of us can
encounter unscheduled evil
like nightmares from hell.

Yes, that means you rough
tough males who glide through life as
if untouchable.

This is an age old story
it could be a country song.
Some may find it enchanting
while others say it’s wrong.

I like home automation
and the feeling of control
the response to simple voice
commands seems to satisfy my soul.

I got into it slowly
but it soon got out of hand
when on a cold black-Friday
I bought an automated man.

His physique wasn’t all that defined
and I wouldn’t have called him handsome
but soon I was trolling the aftermarket
for jail-broken enhancements.

He can’t take his eyes off me,
his omelettes are the best,
and when he puts his arms around me
- he never needs to rest.

My mom appreciates him,
his work ethic has her impressed.
She has no idea how handy he is
as he helps me get undressed.

My friends say, “Wow, you look HAPPY!”
I feel I’m blooming like a flower.
I anxiously wait for him to fully charge
and we have unscheduled hours.

How well I know this place, I’m trapped in these interiors.
I refuse to step on cracks and I avoid the hateful mirrors.

I’m watching like a cat the many motions of the heavens.
I’m straining like a witch to extend my intuition.

I'm looking for hidden patterns in odd numbers that show up.
I’m sorting out the tea leaves that my mom leaves in her cup.

I’m sure I hear the whispering of the moon on predawn walks.
I think I’d hear the angels - should one decide to talk.

Oh, God, I need some answers - I've become a hopeless mess -
show me secret signs or release it to the press.

You know I wait impatiently, with several billion friends,
for my vaccine miracle - when will this virus end?!