Woah. All the elves are on the sofa.
Grandma's snoring in her chair. Stock and stuff
with half a candy, tangled tinsel everywhere.
Lake affecting the forecast, but the driveway's all
just flushed. Took the tree to the garage.
Now the pines and culture shock rub.
It's the day after Christmas. Hey, Traverse City.
Cherry pie hangover coffee, not credit. Ugly sweater
sliding off one shoulder. Still,
we're shoveling sail as not snow drifts chill.
Oh, the magic's gone,
but the leftovers stay.
Day after Christmas up north, we'll laugh it
away. We'll laugh it away.
Mall parking lot is bumper cars in four
wheel drive parade.
Uncle bought a snowblower,
then it rained all Boxing Day.
Cousin stuck in Kalkaska
says the plow just passed him by.
He's trading jokes for jumper cables under that
gray bellied sky.
Hey, Pete. It's the day after Christmas. Hey,
Traverse City. Cherry pie hangover coffee not pretty.
Ugly sweater sliding off one shoulder still.
We're shoveling still as not snowdrifts.
Chill.
Oh, the magic's gone,
but the leftover
stay.
Oh. We got ornaments
on clearance. We got cheese balls for a
week. We got three more family board games
and one more, just one more peek. At
the lake that looks like stainless steel at
the town that's half asleep.
Sent us somewhere on a beach now. We're
here counting plastic
rings.
Rings.
Real deep.
It's the day after Christmas.
Traverse City, cherry pie hangover coffee not pretty.
Ugly sweater sliding off one shoulder
still.
Woke up boxing day in Traverse City,
snowbank higher than my hopes.
Grandma's Buick buried to the mirrors.
Uncle says
she still goes.
Sure it does.
Cherry pie on the kitchen counter.
Leftover ham in a folding chair.
Cousins out ice fishing on Zoom.
Says the Wi Fi's better out there.
Boxing day in Traverse City. We're just boxing
up the pot, trading socks that don't quite
fit for the fudge we meant to hide.
From Petoskey down to Boyne,
we give,
we nap,
we grace.
Boxing day in Northern Michigan is our halftime
for the holidays.
And drove in from down by Kocasco,
bragging about her brand new sled.
It's a used one from '92,
but she swears
this baby shreds. Oh,
yeah.
We hit May for the clearance candles.
Every card a demolition
dirty.
Guy in line with a 10 foot shovel
says it's for my car, don't worry.
Boxing day in Traverse City, we're just boxing
up the pot.
Trading socks that don't quite fit for the
fudge we meant to hide.
From Petoskey
down to Point,
we're good.
We nap.
We crave
snowplows
stuck in the cul de sac,
even he's taking the day off.
Wearing sweatpants,
flannel
slippers,
playing your your talking tough.
Next year, I'll train like a boxer,
the pie. Trading socks that don't quite fit
for the fudge we meant to hide.
From Petoskey down to Boyne,
we're red gift. We nap.
We graze.