the day of big float parades, family and
stuffing your face, belly aches,
sitting and sitting/talking too. He’s
eyeing the legs. Which looks better,

the turkey’s or Sues? Extra weight
and too-full plates because you can’t
decide. Everything looks great. Glasses of
wine and linen so fine, in burgundy

like grandma’s lipstick that’s as thick
as the cranberry jelly. That’s as smelly as
your uncle’s cigars. But I’m not in this
scene. I’m all alone/going to nobody’s home –

no polite smiles, and napkins on laps. No
grandpa falling asleep because the drinks hit him
fast. No gossip in the kitchen, while washing the
pots and pans. Just an ordinary day as I am.