Every Thanksgiving family shows up
like our house is a retreat for the
temporary insane-and well, frankly
most of them aren't accepted any-
where else, so them come here.
It is a festive and joyous time, and
very eventful-and full of love;
A love that science can't explain, a
feeling lacking any real emotion,
and filled with a turmoilent hustle
like trying to get to know someone
you might like as a friend, and
finding out the chance of making
it happen, is null-they might be a
first cousin;
A love like a fondue chowder with a
whiskey chaser to quench your lust,
I mean thirst-a taste of forbidden
...uh...ok first cousin she was, but
I am sure I wasn't;
We say grace, we eat, we sit and
mingle-some even have after
dinner conversation, that lasts
into minutes-good stuff;
Why love here? Why anywhere else
for the matter-with these people
its a short time affair, and hey,
aunt Girdle just might send you
money for Christmas, because
you hugged her back and whisper-
ed an I love you in her ear;
The turkey was good. Better the
next day-Better than any turkey
I ate-thats what this time with
these people I call family can't
live without-each other.
