Look
past the hype
Ignore
the faux greetings
emailed
by politicians and insurance agents
the
pop-up ads for last minute flowers
Look
past the madness
Sing
your way through traps and traffic jams
as
children of all ages race, then crawl
to
meet inflated and bittersweet
expectations
Look
past the rituals
Float
above the brunch-crowded parking lot
where
cars troll for space
ferrying
eggshell elderly
driven
by dads dreaming
of
after-lunch naps
dropping
off moms
carrying
babes on hips
and
kids by hands
surrounded
and sandwiched
in
their multi-generational pods
Look
past the past
Catch
the eye of one small boy
rubbing
his hands together
in
anticipation perhaps of pancakes
who
grins
and
sing-songs
Happy days!
Dad
looks down, smiles
and,
as if just now remembering,
echoes
his son Happy Days!
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