next on my list

let's take
down the tree
now, she says.
let's strip it
bare, remove
the bulbs, unravel
those lights
and pack it all
away. let's get
the tinsel up,
and the needles
vacuumed
that litter
the rug. let's be
done with it, okay?
and i stare at
her from across the
room in my new
bedroom slippers
and black socks,
holding my new
book on ten places
you'll never get
to before you die,
and say why, but
why now. it's only
the day after
christmas. and she
says, with her
hands on her hips,
when it's over
it's over.
and after the first
of the year, your
next on my list.