At high school, one
must be adept
at fabrication,
if not
the outright lie.
That first
bright morning
back at school,
the boasts will fly.
"I got an aeroplane."
"At last, my pony."
"A Cadillac."
"Trust fund for college,
all paid in full."
all paid in full."
"Some gems my father found
back in the war, and pocketed,
from the crown of Charlemagne."
back in the war, and pocketed,
from the crown of Charlemagne."
"Britannica. Whole set.
I'll read it
from cover to cover."
I'll read it
from cover to cover."
I swallow hard,
at the thought of
our tinsel tree, and how,
on Christmas Eve,
my mother walked
from the Moose Club bar
to the five-and-dime,
then home to wrap
my only gift that year.
at the thought of
our tinsel tree, and how,
on Christmas Eve,
my mother walked
from the Moose Club bar
to the five-and-dime,
then home to wrap
my only gift that year.
"Well?" my friends ask,
"so what did you get?"
I walk away.
I cannot say it:
A three-pair pack
of underwear.
