Christmas time, chirstmas time, torture time.
Waiting in line, armful of gifts, People Magazine looking at me. Makes me sick.

Christmas in July! Christmas decorations next to Halloween candy.
Songs with morals, sleigh bells, lengthy narratives with no proper singing.

It's all a commercial construct. I couldn't get that Jet Li Kung-Fu DVD pack
until Xmas due to marketing executives seeking bonus increases.

I'm standing here, in line, obedient,
just waiting to fill their coffers with my hard earned loot.

Men's section. What to buy Dad? He's an octogenarian for crying out loud!

The man has all the wrenches, ties, wallets, sock, brushes, tools, and otherwise
exclusively male decorative embellishments that he will ever need in two lifetimes.

I walk down the 20th aisle. More junk. Stacked to the ceilings.
Plastic crap made in China. We forget about those kids in those factories because:

All I see on television are
pictures of red faced cherubs,
held aloft in puppy sweaters,
shining smiles on their faces.

All gathered 'round a tree,
presents as far as the eye can see.

Five people in front of me.
I settle in line, sealing my fate. The three chins of some once-thin model
staring at me through mascara-stained eyelids like a sad racoon in my garbage can

Four people in front of me.
Candy bars magazines novelty items impulse purchases.
As if I didn't have enough crap piled in my cart already.

Three more to go.
I reach limply for a zagnut of some kind,
reach far above my head and place it on top of my wobbly pile.

Two more to go.
The situation is the same every damn year. Did I buy too much, too little?
If it's too big she'll think she's fat, and if it's too small?

One more to go.
My son. My son has gotten older. He's still effeminate.
What the hell am I supposed to buy an effeminate 26 year old man?
You would think by now he's made up his mind to spend the rest of his life that way.

Manly Stuff.

Power tools. Books about motorcycles. Insulated flannel. Yeah, there's always a chance.

My turn at the line!

"Happy Holidays" - The customer service bot opens her rusty hinged mouth
as I wonder what fate has in store for me this time.

The talking heads on the tube
there's nothing for me they can save.
There's no War on Christmas!
It's OK to say what you believe:

Happy Hannukah to you
And a very merry Kwanzaa to us all.

People huddled in shopping malls,
and mothers scrambling over dolls.
I guess it's worth it to me
to visit the people I love this year.

Please don't buy me anything I just want to see you.