Xmas at the Xroads
From the roof,
the stone kicked over the edge
You should never have made the mistake
of putting me in such
a shallow grave,
where I could still hear the goatman
blow blues sax in the christmas cards,
see the monster truck,
dirtyred with primer,
smeared with tiny reindeer
towed from the wreck of a seventy-six sleigh
pileup on the lost highway.
You should have taken
the time to speak the words
to keep me from walking (or
at least buried me
at the Xroads)
because when Miss X (the prickly Virgin)
slammed metal door number nine on
the announcer's chickeny neck
rather than pick which one might open to glory,
the building got ugly-empty.
Your Xmas lights
just made it look cheap.
All the tinsel stuck to
all the hard work you stole,
all the blueprints gone toxic;
no one could save it,
so that the roof
invisible as a stone.
Posted for Poetics at dVerse Poet's Pub
Brian's grabbed the mic today to get us to tackle the topic of mass media, mass communication, etc. I think all my regular readers know just how much I love the Xmas season, so that was where I went.
Images: Same to You, by lalawren, posted on flick'r
Christmas Stable Decration, by rockbadger on flick'r
shared under a Creative Commons License