I wrote this a few years before I met my Beloved, and I am, to this day, shocked at how prescient it was. Sure, it’s a Christmas poem, but it’s about my Beloved, so I’m sharing it on “Ballens-times” Day, because I’m a rebel in very small ways.
Thoughts on Christmas:
To the Tall, Dark, and Slightly Neanderthal Fellow I Hope To Meet and Fall In Love With One Day
Mistletoe I haven’t got, nor lips to kiss beneath it,
Just parsley and a daydream I prefer to keep a secret.
I made a bath of eggnog and a fruitcake soaked in booze;
The fruitcake’s now a doorstop and the nog is eggy ooze.
My tree has thirteen branches (unlucky, but a fact)
And since I taped it to the tree stand, I cannot take it back.
I hung the tinsel strand by strand, ornaments one by one,
And seven candy canes that lived: the others melted in the sun.
I don’t believe in Santa, so I didn’t hang a stocking.
Don’t have a chimney, anyhow, so he’d have to come a-knocking.
I went to sleep early Christmas Eve, slept in Christmas Day,
And I plan to spend the New Year in the same old solo way.
Holidays without a darling, a love, or Sweet Baboo…
Another time of yet another year I didn’t spend with you.
(My expressions of affection are indeed copyrighted, and it would be really, really bad karma to swipe someone’s expressions of affection and pass them off as your own. It causes hemorrhoids and halitosis, and carries permanent cosmic consequences. I don’t want to get this back in a year in a chain e-mail from my mom’s neighbor, with some sappy note about it being from a soldier’s wife or something.)