For Christmas

I want a bible with all blank pages

I want a butterfly butter-knife
For surprise attack sandwiches

I want a time machine
So I can go back to when I was a ******
To my first cigarette
And my first lover
And my first broken heart

To where my eyes didn’t have the green tint of jade
Lightening up this solid brown
My favorite color

I want a new harmonica inhale
And exhale
I want to breathe heavy into your wind instrument
CPR your song back to life

I want to slow dance on dying yuletide embers
And regift your laughter til I am not funny anymore

Don’t be mad that I recycled the stockings
You made me remove so slowly last night

They are stretched out now
And filled with crumpled photographs
And candy
And sticky notes full of bad one-liners

Like

“I thought I loved you until I loved you
And now I’m not sure of anything”

Forgive me
It was all I could afford

I want
More than just blankets to keep me warm at night
I want you to keep me warm at night

I want a type-writer big enough to run myself through
So I can rewrite the rough drafts my parents never finished

I want to bring the stars back west
So I can wish some more

I wish I knew how to be quiet
When beauty demanded silence
So her feet could echo proper
Drawing eyes to follow her sound

I want the trillions of miles my mind has traveled
To finally stop somewhere important

Like right here

Near the end of this poem

Where I tell you
I want so much
And need so little
Just the promise of tomorrow I guess
Until there are no more tomorrows
Then just a fair warning
Long enough to make you laugh maybe
That’s it