I Hate Birthdays

I hate birthdays, and Christmas is even worse; Thanksgiving is okay, but the New Year is a blessed curse, as if one day were really better than the other, as if wishing could make it so, as if we were born again Christian every moment of every day best part being the childhood the holidays and the presents no past only future surfing the current like a rogue wave tsunami, traveling at the speed of light mass infinite begging for forgiveness I’d like to say it doesn’t matter but really it does the little things like the candles on a cake and a peck on the cheek or the lips life is too short to stumble through unnoticed and un-noted sleeping in caves when a split-level would be nice or merely riding the waves when a double-decker would do well we came down from the trees to cross swords we came down from the trees to cross oceans to cross thresholds…