Christmas Detritus

Christmas is coming, yet I abhore,

Faux chrissy cheer in department stores.

No wise men cluster round a manger.

For Herod this kid’s an imperial danger.

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Smoke spirals up from scented pine candle,

Incense is burning from wood known as sandle.

Plastic crepe, ribbons all scattered around,

Broken toys whimper then don’t make a sound.

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When I was small I don’t really recall,

Why Jesus’s birthday matters at all.

Soon father christmas took over his schtick,

He sold more product, bucks came in quick.

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