O SHIT, NOT ANOTHER CHRISTMAS

'Tis another season
of bullshit
is upon us.
In that joyful spirit
lemme say up front:
This season
I want to get
more than I want to give;
I want to have
more than have not.
I feel like sitting on my ass
& shoot Santa in the balls
as he tumbles down my chimney
from the trip wire I set, and laugh
at his sooted face
from all the carbon.
Today, though, Santa
doesn't have to do shit--
Amazon will gladly bury you
in inertia & debt.
I'm of the age
where most of my lovers have died
of boredom,
or are imprisoned
in their very special & deserved hells--
thank you very much.

However,
if I'm being honest,
I miss those heavens...
& those hells.
In fact,
I find myself
wanting to be Italian.
I want to be wrapped
in Grandma's lasagna,
swimming in escarole,
shrimp scampi, pasta this,
basta that. Uncle Tony
sending deft farts
into mouths paralyzed with laughter.
I want to be hugged-up, wanted,
not because I'm me,
but because I'm part of them.
Yes,
it's true:
I'm a wandering Jew,
& I'll wander into any family
on this day that reeks
from joy
whether they throw matzah balls,
or hamhocks, or all 7 fishes
around the dinner table laughing
or cursing who & where they came from because
what is in their marrow is their essence...
& that essence is love.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2019