swimming in december
immigrant men
are hanging christmas lights
on the trees
and big houses
all along this pristine street
last month
the people who live here
had signs stuck in their lawn
for politicians who promised
to drive all of the immigrants out of america
by any means necessary
but there’s no time for irony
when one is planning on making jolly
i watch the men from my window
stringing up red lights on trees
twinkling white lights on doorframes
a watered-down tumbler of vodka in my hand
feeling the weariness of this season
as i do every december
thinking about the way years go along
like long stretched out intestines
carrying our shit from one end to the other
the way we fool ourselves
into thinking it’ll be different
come january first
life is hard enough
to warrant a little deception
like these men aren’t working for racists
like the people behind their doors aren’t racists
and i’m not some drunk standing in a window
caught up in my own bullshit malaise
a transactional man
in a transactional world
thinking those
oh-so-deep thoughts again
from the shallow end of the pool.
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