Thursday, November 8, 2012

A Retinal Conflagration

It made him cold, it gave him pause, he suffered ever more
as a mind’s eye can’t unsee things, and this shook him to the core
He wished he’d never been there on the scaffolding that day
when he’d spotted dear old Santa near undressed and makin hay

It was bad enough to find out now that Santa Claus was real
he’d assumed the myth a children’s tale with family appeal
but he found St. Nick a lecher, with an escort in his lap
clad in nothing but a union suit, and with an open flap

Oh he’d almost lost his cookies on that darkest day of all
there was Santa with a hooker, in a dirty men’s room stall
Say your prayers you never see it, hope that luck is on your side
For you never want to witness what the window washer spied

2 comments: