I knew it –

when I couldn’t wear the same pajamas
from between our seven-fishes-Christmas Eve
through presents and ham and cheese
on Christmas Morning
through Christmas Day Eve
when Poppa and Nana and Mima and Pops
slept over,
had to,
cause they were sloshed on eggnog
spiked with something I wasn’t allowed
so I drank from the bottle
until Mommy yelled loud
and Daddy, laughing, poured it into
a paper cup mixed with the something I wasn’t allowed,
through the morning of the day after Christmas
when we ate left-over
ham and shrimp and cheese and quiche
and in between that food and fun and family
we lazed on sofas and rugs
in front of the brand new Sylvania Color TV
to watch college boys bump helmets
in assorted Bowls
and then Mommy said,
“Kenny, time to shower and change your PJ’s”
and Daddy, laughing, said,
“Yeah, you smell pretty ripe.”

And I knew it
on the Christmas
when I had to pack my clothes
for the drive to
Daddy
at some lady’s house
and
Mommy
tried to hide it
but she couldn’t
so she cried
when she handed me my back-pack
stuffed with my pillow and Teddy-bear
and underwear
and socks
and I didn’t want to go
but I had to
so they made me
and I knew from that moment next Christmas would suck
and I would always
be sad
when somebody sang,

“…just like the ones I used to know…”.