Slack-jawed, wide-eyed
tongue-tied
and terrified
of what went left unsaid,
I froze,
a feature of the static night.
From Summer's boiling tension
to December's weary ice
we'd drive
and count the times
we thought we'd finally got it right.
But then
the weight of discount decades
wrapped our chests in dynamite--
criss-crossed trunks,
and slant-grinned garlands
blowing up the Christmas Tree.
Apologize later for ******* up the party;
we were gone already anyway
with frigid wind flaying fingertips and ears.
Back to the car.
One more drive.
One more night to half believe
we'll get it right this time.
But what's so new about a New Year?
Still can't swallow all this scary size.
Guess we'll always be here, shrugging
Slack-jawed, wide-eyed,
tongue-tied
and terrified.
May 6, 2015
May 6, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
Slack-jawed, wide-eyed
tongue-tied
and terrified
of what went left unsaid,
I froze,
a feature of the static night.
From Summer's boiling tension
to December's weary ice
we'd drive
and count the times
we thought we'd finally got it right.
But then
the weight of discount decades
wrapped our chests in dynamite--
criss-crossed trunks,
and slant-grinned garlands
blowing up the Christmas Tree.
Apologize later for ******* up the party;
we were gone already anyway
with frigid wind flaying fingertips and ears.
Back to the car.
One more drive.
One more night to half believe
we'll get it right this time.
But what's so new about a New Year?
Still can't swallow all this scary size.
Guess we'll always be here, shrugging
Slack-jawed, wide-eyed,
tongue-tied
and terrified.
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