Issue 58, Summer 1974
Oh it’s Christmas time in Omaha Nebraska!
“Almost alive” red lips say through the panes.
His blue eye, his brown eye, his chipped ear.
Wearing a gray wig, missing two fingers,
My father is easily the handsomest mannequin
In the display window at Brandeis and Sons.
At me? His son: JohnJ ? Unassembled I lie
In a crate near the electric train.
See the workers dressed like priests screw on
My head. Lock on my arms. Twist on my legs.