We don’t give thanks in the usual way,

With a yellow turkey stuffed full.

There are no children gone astray,

And family prayers are null.

We don’t celebrate around a golden feast,

A table for ten, and some cranberry wine.

We don’t take a steely knife to the beast,

That would be crossing a line.

“How can you have a Thanksgiving

If you don’t eat or have the day off?

Why, that’s not even living,”

Said the boy with a scoff.

We don’t give thanks in the usual way,

So I’m sitting here surrounded by yellow candy wrappers strewn about my yellow sleeping bag in a yellow hotel room, picking at my yellow teeth with my yellow fingernails, trying in vain not to contemplate the connotations of the color yellow.