2:28 a.m. christmas morning ’77 dad
drunk in the family room playing john denver
carols on the 8-track I still believe in santa
in my asbestos pj’s with the feet attached
peek my head around the corner
dad puts the bionic man talking mork and
cornelius all together in the same room of
my brand new laminated cardboard fold out planet of the
apes play-set with the little plastic wood
corral where charlton heston is supposed to
go NOT the kung-fu grip g.i. joe (only
looks like heston) dad turns around
naked under his big blue robe, hi-ball
sloshing in one hand
the bionic woman in the other, asks
“why are you
still playing with
dolls?”