evening setter, sun setting, set-up: poinsettia
off my balcony spills a city bricolage
promises to be beautiful, not lonely
promises to be rainy on Christmas
to drown out being Jewish and ignored
or being in love with a Christian and living with a
Christian
and surrounded by Christians who don’t know the difference
between menorah and
chanukkiah
though really, neither does any other Jew
who claims to not feel sad about lights on Christmas trees
lights on Christmas houses, chintzy plastic chanukkiahs
on chintzy ‘80s temples.
I could list and list the things that give me distance
soul dysphoria – not just religion, but
rickety tables, rickety chairs, laminate countertops,
electric stoves
linoleum kitchens, loose sockets, dusty corners
crying dog downstairs, the band “crystal castles”
but really this it it:
I want to wake up in the forest and not miss the city
to wake up in the city and not miss the woods
to pick mushrooms out of my backyard
I want to love Christmas trees
poinsettias
sunsets, evenings in Providence
myself
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