The Xmas that never comes (a poem)

I tend to be ambivalent about Xmas these days.

Xmas doesn’t always come at Xmas
sometimes it doesn’t come for years
having worn out its welcome
or wanting to spend winter somewhere else

So the seven-dollar, 18-inch tall metallic tree
in the form of an unravelling spool of ribbon
stays out all year long
while Jesus looks out over the room
from his sixty-year-old manger

The decorations stay in their box
in the storage closet off the deck—
if you can call three stockings
and a Homer Simpson Santa decorations

The day comes

I watch It’s a Wonderful Life
and a Twilight Zone marathon
have a beer
and go to sleep

The next morning
it’s 365 shopping days left
until Xmas

(18 December 2018)

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