freshly cut tree

into her car
it became old fashioned christmas
white streets
and christmas carols on
xm radio

I envision you opening
a door above the
soft snow ground
shaking the building
climbing the stairs
entering my heart
and making it
laugh

it was good to
drive thru the
ice washed highways
narrow and cracked
like mirrors
gray ledges out to
the swampy
land
yellow and white
straw fields
black and white
and deepest blue
bogs
the beaten down
barns and slumping
houses
the sunken trailers
the horses and
goats
growing out of the mud

I am swimming under
water
getting ready to
break through ice

she took me to the
past in a day
took me to Spokane
in a day
took me to Canada
in a day
searching for a
christmas tree to
cut down ourselves

a house on the
edge of a hill
overlooking a frozen
pond
a thousand paths of
multi-colored bricks
painted over the
house
and a pale
teal classic car
sinking into the yard

this sickness:
the lack of taste
or smell
makes things
sterile and unalive
the tree at the
farm she breathed
in but I could not smell
its freshness, its
pine.
smells are incredible
when they come:
cinnamon

oh you left the
ocean behind when
you left
a saturation of
waves in the
carpet

we laid in the mud
and sawed through
the five ringed
trunk
coldness licking
my feet
the christmas
music playing
outside the
garage a
surreal pause
in time kids
knocking at the door
of the outhouse

the sick sense
of euphoria
that comes from
being more spiritual
because the body
has somewhat deteriorated
and you have
lost something of
yourself: physical energy

she said
you’re not going
crazy maybe just
changing you can
never lose yourself
just change
yeah it’s a
dream sequence for
my eternal
soul to ride
change, like snow
life
snow light
thru my windows
the way the
guitar sounds
body come alive
in cold night
air
at edge of bed

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