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The night you left Petey out
it was Christmas Eve.

We were drunk,
naked —
two kids playing house.

Like reckless teenagers:
The babysitter necking
with her boyfriend,
stealing liquor and kisses.

Children unattended
forgotten
for minuteshoursdaysalifetime,
abandoned to our abandon.

Your mouth tasted
like Christmas.
We fell asleep waiting for the snow.

That strange Japanese dog
never barked.
Just stood and waited outside
a locked door.

We pretended Santa had brought us a puppy
and we showered it with
guilty love,
nervous laughter. Thank God dogs can’t talk.

It was finally snowing.
You gave me the last of the coffee,
another present.

When the taxi came
you kissed me at its door,
snowflakes
dusting our bodies.

I carried Bing Crosby and you
in my head
all the way home.

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