it'll stop soon.

kinda like the grim reaper, kinda like

you should fuckin recycle yr tree to make wood chips and mulch or whatever.

ode. or.

let's do walk through all the alleys, with none of the trees,

let's do throw our christmas out the window, how i would love to throw this break away.

let's do paint feathers on our skin and attract the real feathers to collect at our feet when we open our front door.

let's do cast plays with ourselves as the leads, the only characters so that we can get to say things like

"i've never danced all night. wouldn't it be something to - to dance all night and watch the rats come out of the gutter?

rats?

don't they come out at night? i hear New Orleans has lots of rats.

yeah, yeah its got lots of rat's.

then let's dance all night and wait for them to come out.

all right - but, but how about our feet?

feet?

they'll hurt.

yeah.

okay, then let's dance." **

let's do find a new tree.

**this entire chunk of text in quotes is from Beth Henley's play Am I Blue, which i recently read and loved. a lot. it is dialogue between Ashbe and John Polk.

i want my frozen corpse to lie in the front yard.

just a tree, no ghost trashbags to deal with and flip out the young-uns and give the squirrels a plastic home to claw out of.

found another one. found a walk found you all over the neighborhood found yr 2 a.m.

holiday ghost waste dead tree big city out of touch -ed by angels angles. acute.

there be a christmas ghost in the alley.