Firs are mad observant

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When it get cold out,
you have to remember
why you don’t hibernate.

You’re reminded when a friend
enthusiastically pulls out a cheese
that costs far too much money
to be served on a gaudy plastic tray
and exclaims excitedly that it needs
to sweat to let the favors come to the surface
like a geologist waiting at a sauna until his rocks ripen.

It doesn’t take a lot to make your heart grow three sizes.
Some say you’re soft because of it,
but really you’re like dough that is stretched
so long that it bounces back when pressed.
Or you’re a Jell-O shot, because, let’s be honest,
there’s nothing more festive
than jiggling neon alcohol.
Or maybe, just maybe,
your heart is like a cardiologist’s dream,
for it’s way too large to pump
the meager blood supply
of anything less than a giving tree.

One thought on “Firs are mad observant

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