i get the giant tin of inedible
cookies
from my dad.
a big bright red tin from
swiss colony.
each year, it comes. not quiet
fruit cake,
but still.
every cookie seems stale,
like they were baked
ten years ago
by bored elves.
i don't even break open
the seal.
i put my finger to my chin
and wonder
who in the world can i regift
this to.
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