Perfect.

what's one better than X-mas?
uh-huh!
XI-mas, neighbors.
us worthy warrior poets know how to doo-doo
that gratitude and that generosity
and that active participation
and that professional appreciation.
but,
we can only activate that level of expert business
from the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
up here in the happy hills and magnificent mountains
of the heroic and stoic woodsly goodness.
yuuuuuuuuuuup.
we're home, duders.
there's no place like it.
it's where the heart is, even.
(and the foot)
after a trip to the less-than,
we're nestled back in the barbarian bosom
of our very own idyllic paradise.
why am i sniffling?
no,
i'm not having an appropriate emotional sentiment
about being back where i belong.
c'mon,
don't be dumb.
i've got a clogged-up cratacular attack
of super-severe connecticitis.
ugh.
it's bad, y'all.
i'm a drippy, coughing contagion waiting to infest
and digest the dopeness of the northern hottness.
gross.
i'm tellin' you ninjas-
it never fails.
bring me to the toxic turdblasted terrain of
the land of my birth,
and the heat-seeking hatebombs of hellacious
helix-harranguing heckfire assault my system
and my sensibilities.
or maybe it was the falafel?
check the teleport, buddy:

did it come from a dirt-dirty grit-grimy kitchen?
yes.
was it proportionately delicious?
you bet your sweet A*, son!
the dirtier the spot,
the more expert the falafel.
this one was off the charts on both counts.
the wifey said it was the best she'd ever had.
believe it.
*
so i'm laid up, beaten down, broken and broke,
but it's a next-level futuristic holiday.
and it definitely goes to eleven.
wooooooord.
*
we spanned so much time,
across such vast expanses,
at such epic expense,
and with such savage stormswept gypsy expertism,
that it almost seems unfair to brag about it.
not that i'd ever let that briefest of unconsciou-style
involuntary conscience-type pang occupy
too much space in my ferocious furnaces.
instead,
i'll just say that everything was perfect.
my darling double-digit daughters,
the distended and extended branches
of our network of relatives,
the food, the funtimes,
the peoples and mini-peoples,
and all of the flippin' time we took.
real life really well lived.
that's what's up.
***********
the paper is all torn and taken away.
the bows are bowed and the ribbons are wilted.
the storm and the glory of our very own day-after
dopeness and delight are all done for now...
but there are still molto days of winter vacation ahead of us,
and a whole new year to get jumpin' off.
where we are is all there is.
everything and everywhere else is just not What Is-
today was the day again,
tomorrow will be too;
never quiet, never soft.....