Thanksgiving

Let’s go fucking!
Just like grandma used to do
In the thimming, weesel morning
with the moving ricking thud
and the clip clip clop clop clup clup
of the horses’ slash brown hoof stomp;

Past the last dried fields
And the acorn downed trees
Just right at old man Weston’s
And straight through Smithtown
All the way, all the way.
all the way home.