When shopping lists
for last-minute gifts
cover my calendar
in giant tinseled clots
and stuff my head with
wrapping paper wads,
I close my eyes
and let my sore feet
ramble slowly
down Bourbon Street
where the warm lights
burn all year round
and lampposts like microphones
amplify the sounds
that pave the syncopated street
in the bright surprises of holiday.
By the bayou,
there’s no frenzied countdown to Christmas,
just a daily,
jazzy reminder
that you don’t want to miss this
crazy, colorful life.
Your suggestions
Hang like
Pink streamers
From the
Chipped white walls,
Decorating for all occasions
As long as
the colors are loud
And the theme obnoxious.
My thoughts unroll
On cold paint
As bright yellow
Caution tape.
Black letters spell out
Potential
Consequence.
We celebrate
The same events
a little differently.
