Holiday Time Slip

The heart scores a wild beat

Deep in his chest

Up in his throat

Pounding with an odd thrill

A nano-second of inexplicable joy

Juvenile rambunctiousness

Saved for a holiday

Or a birthday

Some rare delight

That turns the clock in reverse

For an unforeseen treat

To the time that he got his first mitt

From his older sister

Who cheered him on

As he played that forgotten game

With his grandfather

Who smiled and

Bared  a gold front tooth

That reflected in the sunlight

Passing through the overhead leaves

Nudged by a gentle breeze

Carrying the scent of

Leather and sweet tobacco

Intertwined with the arbor vitae

Bringing him back

To the moment he left

Which seemed like decades ago

Drawing him to walk back

To the parking lot,

Asking the vendor with the stogie

In his mouth:

“How much for that tree?”

Beat Elves

Tired of the electronic circuitry line

For the X – something,

Weee – something

Gang of letter writers

Bubs and Jeebers

Packed their woodwinds

Swapping this ice block

For a jazz gig down south

Catching the first dogsled

Out of the tundra

Heading for Mama Millie’s Moose Bar

Burning up some hot jazz

Sweating up a rainstorm

For the drought of the land

Drought in their hearts

Serenading some round-eared,

Red-nosed dolls

Making them pine

For a cooler life

In winter wonderland

With some buck-eyed stags,

Some sandman tunes

Into the magic of twilight

Shaking a tail

High tailing it north

For that mystical trade-off

With shining stars
Lit-up elves

Donning their shades in the sun

Until their numbers came up

Finding their callings

On the MP3 line

As the Big Man smiles

And whistles Dixie.

Trial and Error

Being born with elf ears

Outside the North Pole

Was a curse to them,

Ridicule the norm

Stereotypes crawling under the skin

Thin skin, gentle hearts

Expected to wear pointed shoes

Unflattering colors of the rainbow

Accused of gluing on fakes

Spreading defective tinsel

Glitter graffiti

Sticking mockups

To purebred ears and

Unsuspecting specimens

Of self-righteousness;

Shunned, condemned

Without a trial

As a gift

For a perfect Christmas

With indifferent ears

Hunt and Peck

Cold water splashed

On the sleepy face

Fog laden

Star dusted corners of her eyes

Reaching for the tattered towel

Frayed edges

Hanging threads

Everything hanging by that thread

Dangling her morning earrings

To cover her impoverished room

From the steno pool girls

Fast typing fingers

Fast talking tongues

Borrowing hats and scarves

From the shop owner

Trading the privilege for

Feather repairs and lint removal

Covering up

Hiding her past

The shame of her poverty

With a grin and a wink

As she put on the act

Along with her make-up

Carries the strut

Easily as her coat

Hoping that no-one will notice

Accidental tears in her stockings

Not realizing that they all

Play the same game

Hiding only from themselves