thank you

The stench of Windex and turkey mix in the air.
While I mechanically wipe the dog slobber off the windows
I gag on the mist floating across the dinner table
I imagine all of us, guests included, dead
“Windex residue unknowingly mixed with turkey dinner.
five dead.”

The things I imagine while I mechanically wipe dog slobber off windows.
Sometimes imaginations are just annoying. And morbid. I always imagine the worst. Or sometimes the best.

We never said what we were thankful for this year. I remember it always being awkward.

“I’m thankful for you, and the dog and my garden…um…

“What about dad”

“Yes and dad.”


It always sounds so corny to say you’re thankful for having a roof over your head and enough food to eat. But should it?

Maybe instead of being thankful for the things you need to live be thankful for the silly stuff.

The world’s roofs and loaves of bread are tired of all the attention. While, the butterflies painted on my wall, which bring light to the little blue room, get few thank-yous.


Oh, no one died. Crisis averted…I guess it is still digesting. I better go lay down.