To shake things up,
we light fires under the imaginations
of people hiding
behind closed doors

to liberate them
from the idea
gifts are given only
on birthdays and Christmas.

At the thrift shop we find
old vinyl records our fathers played
with black and white cover photos
of the Kingston Trio
and Miles Davis.

Unintentionally we locked
something of ourselves
into those tunes
when we wrapped them
with a crimson bow
and gave them to your grandfather
just because it was Tuesday.

An inconsistent light
that came from a hollow in the sky
preceded us all day Sunday.
It illuminated unanswered questions
about high wire acts
and swan dives.

copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney

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