Just Make It to the End of the Year
Just when you near the end of the year,
The treacherous sadness sinks in.
It takes the heart of a long distance runner
To make peace with Mars all up in your face.
You’ll swelter through Virgo,
Catch flu in the Fall.
By Thanksgiving Weekend,
Thanks for nothing at all.
The treacherous sadness of Christmas Trees
Cuts you down to your knees: cut down
Like a pilgrim lost in a village of loggers
Who cut what they please.
It’s not my job to teach you a lesson,
But racing to Capricorn can:
Autumn is hard on your shoes.
Lace tight. Get by.
Endure.
Make do.
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