Sunday, December 18, 2005

'Tis the Season

For a while now
I haven't written a thing
I've been dry
Like my mouth in the morning
Perched open for seven hours
With a NightGuard while asleep.
I've been dry
Like the latter part of winter
When the Holidays are no more
Than a hangover and a credit card bill
And the New Year's resolutions
Have already begun to dissolve.

It was my birthday recently
Blissfully ignored by most of humanity
And systematically forgotten by
Even more people than the year before.
And yet I managed to get
Enough gifts I don't need,
Enough books I'll never read,
And blank pages I'll never fill
To make me thankful that I weren't
Any more memorable still.
All I can say is
Thank god for Borders' no-gift-receipt
Return policy.

And so, that's where I headed
To scratch off some items from my Wish List,
A list that seems to function more as a
Please-Ignore-List
This-Really-Is-Just-A-Reminder-To-Myself-
Of-All-The-Things-I'd-Like-To-Plug-That-Void-With.
I got me a couple of books
So stale and overdue
They were already covered with dust.
I stacked them by my bed
To ward off the evil spirits
Brewing inside my head,
Hoping that in my sleep
I would somehow
Osmotically absorb them.

See, in my spree, I go for those titles
That seem to be just as ignored as I am
(Except, of course, that they're not).
I place Special Orders for them
And then never buy them
Just as a Holiday Gift
To the poor authors I'll never become.

I feel sorry for myself this time of year
(More so that I do the rest of the year),
I feel homesick and cook
Wax ornaments of family pictures and songs
That I proceed to ridicule
Before somebody else does.

I know I am petty
And most of my poems begin with me
And end with me
And don't waver much in between;
I know I am jealous of a cat
And... Well, I'll spare myself the rest.
And I know this is the part where
The Poet imparts her Big Revelation,
Her rancid Pearl of Wisdom;
But I have none.
I am lazy,
And have Christmas Shopping to do still
And I don't even have a smart way to end this.

4 comments:

katy said...

you need a hug.

Maya said...

That's a sad poem. A lot of people feel bummed out during the holidays. It is especially hard when you are far away from your family... I wish you a new year full of love.

Eve said...

I second Maya. I hope there'll be lots of smiles & joyful moments for you this year.
Happy belated birthday :)

Anonymous said...

Very powerful and "honest" in my beloved Modern sense. I yet believe that it would be more honest if written in prose. Your words seem choking with the edges of the lines, and prose can release that. Reminded me of 70's Brutalism in architecture.

This is on one hand. On the other, do not mind the books. You know what I have been loving to do lately? throwing things away. Burning some of your "heavy load" books might be especially liberating. Maximum, if you really needed to read them after they are burnt, you can always buy them again. Assuming that a book costs circa 5o Dollars, it is worth the peace of mind.

Aslan, I told you of what Josef told me, that he had the souvenir, in his head.

So much for being brief. Kiss me again,
Ton frère Ahmad