I used to be an optimist.
When I was 5, someone told me,
“Santa Claus does not exist!”
In my teens I learned he’d been murdered
by a Commie-sympathizer
with a Sears’ catalogue rifle.
Much later, I learned he’d been blown up
(with Rudolph the red-nose reindeer)
because of the cut of his jib!
Blown up by terrorists, they told me.
Because of the cut of his jib!
I could almost understand!
I never liked his garish outfits–
startling red, with bright, white trims!
(I never liked his rotund style–
that “Ho-ho-ho!” jocundity!)
It was also the “fake news,” they told me.
He was spreading too much cheer!
Climbing down chimneys in the middle of the night!
Leaving all kinds of packages!
God only knows what you find when unraveling!
He never even went thru Homeland Security!
“Get with the program!” they told me.
“The Power of Positive Thinking”
is all that old-hat stuff!
“But the children?” I wondered, “the children….
Who will tell the children?….”