baby Christmas trees
in a field
little bump in the backseat
driving past them

but most of my life I’ve been intense
no wonder I’m crazy
no wonder my little pill bottles have eyes but I’m the one who’s always watching

I’d like to give you some of California she said
I told her sure but save the receipt
she said everybody’s sun sleepy there
and has sand in their flip flops and eyelids

but really I just wish it was Christmas time
just so I could drink that red wine in the Rocky Mountain Christmas album
half asleep
tucked into the tree and Santa’s cookies and milk,
tucked into the yawn of the dog lying under the ornaments

but for most of my life I have had this intensity
that she said California could be an antiseptic for
but I’m not moving to California
there’s no way in hell I’m even going back outside again tonight

I can move my life to that level of unnerving octane brain but it will still look like
a cup of tea at the end of the table
with the frost outside
I just won’t take a sip
I tried to tuck myself in all winter long
but we didn’t get any snow

what’s the difference snow or California
its an ugly bit of contrast
like puke
poor little brain of mine waiting in the weeds to come out and get me

I’ve been intense most of  my life
Better take a slower drag
fall asleep with the book over my eyes
eat whole grain
I just wish now that I’m 42 that I could just fizzle a little
just stoke the fire
till a few ashes blow up in the air and into outer space