My Christmas Poem

It’s the night before Christmas and all through the house,
Not a creature is stirring ‘cept kids, cats and spouse.

My face it looks fat in my Gameboy’s reflection,
Though Nintendo switch is the naming convention.

I should do adult things like plumbing and taxes,
But end-of-year slowdown’s when ole bones relaxes.

The Christmas tree’s needles are brittle and dry,
I’ll sweep them through spring, though June and July.

The trash cans are ready for cardboard and Lego plans,
Amazon princess homes meet half-empty seltzer cans.

The kids left out cookies and milk on a plate,
It’s my job to toss them before they a-wake.

It’s not as if leaving them out would ruin the magic,
The cats would eat them, throw-up, and ruin our fabrics.

Our secular Christmas stars Santa and cheese sticks,
Family and messes and fried rice and Netflix.

But we’ll fill the time with day-trips and dinners,
Jordan Marsh Ghosts and close babysitters.

With Grammies and Nonnos and Aunties with Nieces,
With Uncles in T-shirts with Uncles in fleeces.

Through precious time-off our boredom can seize us,
Watch Regis and Kelly, but minus the Regis.

Trying on Christmas gifts involuntarily,
Grubhub, then writing dumb poems apparently.

This much time off it can mess with the head,
Thank Jesus for alcohol I’m going to bed.

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