Miracle On 35th Street Tuscaloosa

Storage Locker Christmas Present
Been wishing, since 2004, for miracle
Every year another layer of dust deposits
They say dream, and it will come to be soon
But the mildew ‘n mold cold builds presence
Says it is America, on 35st Street Tuscaloosa.

Not that these dust items, can move into home
Once upon a time, they were Home Sweet Home
Alabama daydream, put into cold storage deposits
Where decay year after year, dew haunt holidays
Sighs where one, feels the Grinch of winter frost bite
Oh To Be, Too Bee chilled c-old to skeletal bone – key.

Oh hollow key, be an Austin future, now gentrified crisp
The scraping Condo's taketh away another hope present
Where the poet sub-comes to the room womb tomb cries
That store the living breathing wall, wailing remain remnants
As poet ponders the Miracle On 35th Street Tuscaloosa gloom
They say build your Field of Dreams - Bah Humbug, sayeth I.

Eye to eye, dost feel thy heart whimper, whisper shallow cast
Spirits witch bemoans sad and depressing MedUSa stone cold
One lays vertical on bed of thorns that pin prick deflating ego
Pawn of time, Chess piece spent used, setup War domino piece felled
Humpty dumpty had a great fall in 2004, forced by age into retirement
Poet iron will true grit says N.U.T.S.: Never Under Tyranny Surrender.

Yet Dead Poet Society, accumulate within room, womb, tomb coffins
Where Journalists, Artists, Philosophers, Thinkers join - stored stiff stilled
Like the Miracle On 35th Street Tuscaloosa; waiting for Christmas in 2050.

THS 1966 Poet