It’s December 24
& I wonder where
the unbought trees
go, that handful
crisping in the lot
& cracking jokes.

There are 800,000
things to worry about
this year, which is already
last year & the one ahead.

Where do the ducks go in winter?
I don’t think they make it very far,
a farm upstate. I don’t think
we’re making it much farther.

I’m not saying there’s no point
in trying, just that
no one’s leaving this cave
with their lungs intact.

No one’s got
an egg big enough
to steal this fever.