SANTA & HIS ELVES

are hung-up
on our southern border.
His elves
are hungrey
& Santa's balls
are beginning to sweat.
He's running
out of time.
Fuck this,
Santa said,
let's get out of here,
go south,
the hell with the gangs,
I'll take my chances.
Saddle- up, kids,
he belched,
we'll grab a few tacos
at that stand we hit
a few years back...
And don't forget
the presents. This country
is beginning to get
on my nerves.

No one is there
to hear the trains.

No one can see the sky
behind a moon
full of blood.

What kindness
to be got stands
idle and waiting
for a person
to drive the sled.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018