Thursday 7am

(a poem about my experience in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade)

Garfield’s ass has been in my face for an hour now,
and I’m beginning to notice the subtleties.
The whole experience is kind of surreal.
I have a full police escort,
and I’m walking down the middle of Broadway.
There are over six million people watching me.
I can hear them yelling
Cheer-ee-ooss, Cheer-ee-oos,
and I'm dressed in an outfit four sizes too small carrying a five-story bumblebee.

* First published in Long Island Quarterly /Poetry Bay Magazine Spring 2000