J.B. Hogan’s most recent poem to appear here was “Hour Glass” (February 2020).

Christmas Tree Street
By J.B. Hogan

Out in the night beyond the balcony of the house was a
Christmas Tree Street, all yellow, red and green
lighting up the dusky shaded hills,
a flashing red beacon in the distant north,
why? What was it for?
Perhaps to guide his solitary figure, unnoticed
among a crowd of old forgotten friends?
More wine might help, allow for
an alcohol-induced connection maybe but
then she was standing right in front of him
and he sure as hell was not going to not
talk to her and see what was up with that and
so he chatted her up and even told her he was
writing this poem about how the Christmas lights
down on the street below made it look like a
Christmas Tree Street and she leaned in and he
thought, Jesus, maybe I could have this right now
tonight and all it took was some poetic bullshit about
Christmas lights making the street below look warm and
holiday-like and so he spent the next two hours trying to
convince her that what the hell they might as well enjoy the
moment and let themselves go and she stayed right close to him
listening to every word he said and then about [9:30] she went inside the
house to get something to drink and never came back and he just
stood there on the balcony wondering what the hell happened and why
such a poetic thing as a Christmas Tree Street couldn’t get him over these days
even if he was getting older and except for that little poetic impulse,
totally uncool.