the church
had trees for sale,
a truckload,
wet
and green
at the far edge of
the parking lot
of St. Bernadette's.
we stood them up,
stamped
their trunks
into the ground and let
the water
shake free.
what about this one,
i asked.
too tall, she said.
and this one,
too wide,
we went through ten
or fifteen until
she found
one to her liking.
then we strapped it
to the car.
it was on the curb,
full of tinsel
by Christmas eve.
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