TWO: Poems / by Christian Patterson

the Day after Christmas


The bar down the street, and WalMart,
are both at capacity, and they were
the day before Christmas too

we hang out in Zak’s driveway, with a blow-up
Santa riding a motorcycle, a reindeer
driving a tractor, Snoopy in an aeroplane
with ‘Season’s Greetings’ on the side

I’m only in a purple sweatshirt
and black long johns
and the air feels sharply cold

last night, I drove by the space where
my high school used to be
A new high school, with the same name
is in the same space


You are in New York right, in a knit cap and scarf,
watching your brother’s boyfriend play Skyrim,
and you don’t need me to show you the world

I remember Sarah in high school, in her white
tank top and bike shorts, I’d also jokingly tell her
that I would show her the world
and before I came back for Christmas
she sent me a wedding invitation in the mail

I imagine you now, looking
off a fire escape in Manhattan,
even though that’s probably inaccurate,
I’m romanticizing you in my mind
while I write this on my phone
in the North Auburn Taco Bell drive thru



Christian M Patterson is 23 years old. He's from Auburn WA and lives in Portland OR. When he isn't writing poetry, he is watching wrestling. Find him on Twitter and Tumblr.