The Douglas Furs on the sidewalks, snow covers the cars
the chill is in the air and the politics drags on
back to bitter diatribe, the who is right or lied on
the corruption in the Governors' hide, the devil
wears Louis Vuitton it seems, snide pundits and comedians
mock apple pie and you, and things you once held true
like babies are babies even inside you
The polar freeze bends in the breeze
my Charlie Brown Christmas Tree
on the balcony called fire escape
where I also draped my tinsel till late
January just to piss off the building Super. This is the day
that Jack Frost made, let us rejoice
and be glad. Though Christmas trees dangle
from sidewalks and sadness pervades the darkened
skyscape, insist on the memory you made
that tells you Christmas is every day
if you hold in your pocket the baby incarnate
who dared ask you who he is. Whether he comes on a stork
or a cloud, he's coming, and ready or not
It's always Christmas in New York.
No comments:
Post a Comment