Christmas spirit

The stringed lights snake their way up
the double jointed trees

their branches like arthritic fingers
hardening against the lake-wind.

bony college girls examine bags
of kale chips inside the market wallowing

in cheer, bruises of gold and green
doesn’t help the bad lighting.

I’m on the corner of University and Frances
trying to remember enough

physics from the class I dropped freshman year
to calculate the impact force

of a black sedan going 35 mph
against a stationary object weighing 151.3 pounds.


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