Ribbons of rainbow
and paper well hued,
crumpled and recepti-
sized; Christmas is curbed.

Sentiments are mantled, hangover's
begun; the bills, compound
interested, the lights are gone.

Dead branches are empty, so
is prepackaged and marketed
Barbie and Emascu-man meaning;
still 364 days till next cheer.

The white fluff turned slush, even
Nutcrackers are passe'; imagination
is a paint-by-number dinosaur
fx window display. Stay
within the lines, please and
thank you. For the gift Baby

tree'd off in a manger where
we don't hear Him scream;
lust for sniffing hohos has stolen
His scene. Santa stops for a fork
in the sky, finger to lips, slips
his other red suit; lifts that finger
to heaven, we've been thoroughly

Ho, Ho, Hough'd.