by Joan Pond
On Greenwich Avenue,
Fred festooned a fir with lights.
“Jesus,” he said. “It just ain’t right.
I bought this string at CVS
and it’s already broke.
This Christmas stuff’s for the birds.
Man, it’s a joke.
I got no wife and my whole life’s changed.”
But when I shook his hand,
the blue lights lit.
“Holy shit!” he said. “It’s a miracle.”
And we stood,
bathed in cerulean light.
Copyright © 1999 by Joan Pond, All rights reserved
Contact Joan at [email protected]