Friday, December 13, 2019


santa con job

they are roaming manhattan
sliding in the slush and snow in sloppy packs
frat boys in santa costumes
with piss stains on the crotch
their sorority girlfriends
in the requisite whore mrs. claus costume
complete with fishnets
they are doing an annual pub crawl
they claim it’s for charity
but the only charity most of the neighborhoods get
are puddles of vomit
and a rise in sexual assault cases

i am standing outside a famous bookstore
that never has anything inside for me to buy
watching four of these red and white aliens
trying their best to remember which way is west from east
three o’clock in the afternoon in union square
and they are already stumbling blind drunk

jesus christ is what the holiday has come down to
another gratuitous display of heathenism
by our next generation of CEOs and lawmakers?

one of the blonde mrs. clauses spots me standing there
and tries to get her man to get directions from me
but he just says, fuck that faggot
and then the four of them stumble off

when they come wobbling back ten minutes later
screaming at each other
in front of hundreds of holiday shoppers
their big ball in the city ruined
by their own gluttony
and blondie starts making eyes at me again
i think maybe i’ll go back into the famous bookstore
give it one more shot
kill an hour before my pub opens up at four o’clock
where last year the world’s coolest bartender made it a sport
to see how many of those jolly motherfuckers
he could throw out
in one festive evening.

--John Grochalski


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