a poem for shitty gifts and what was really wanted
by Brian McGuigan

Jaime’s mother
got me a weed whacker
for Christmas
not the pants
I needed
or the stamps
for sending submissions
or the Hugo
Carver
Bukowski books
I would’ve enjoyed reading

no,
she gave me
a garden tool
that I’ll never use
because this
is the first house
I’ve ever lived in
and am just getting used to
putting the garbage out
on Wednesdays
paying water
sewer
gas
and not having
to take a broom
to the ceiling
when the people above
won’t shut up

so the garden is on hold
besides, every person I know
who has a house
has a gardener
Mexican or so
that does it for them

I can’t afford that
not even pants
stamps
or books
but Jaime’s mother
would’ve been better off
with those things
or someone
to do the gardening
for me

return to Letter X