This ain’t no Bedford Falls
and I’m nobody’s Jimmy Stewart.
Nothing happens when a bell rings,
except another nickel in a red bucket
outside a Wal-Mart while some fat bitch
pushing a groaning shopping cart with one busted wheel
tosses change so she doesn’t have to really change.
Capra’s vaselined lens doesn’t stand a chance
in the sharp-edged daylight we’re stuck in,
and you’re no tramp-stamped Donna Reed
shaking on a bare mattress
with a trail of snot and tears
puddling on your pillow
while I go out looking for Santa Fix
and an icicle of a very certain flavor.
There are no wise men living at The Lake apartments,
and the guiding lights on Rosehaven flash blue and red.
My mistletoe hangs in the mission tonight
but tomorrow is another day
as another bad old movie used to say.
The kind I watched with my grandma
when I was a kid
when I still dreamed
when I still hoped
that tomorrow wasn’t just another today.
Santa Fix by John Hartness
January 30, 2010 by Scot
John G. Hartness has been published in the online journals The Dead Mule School of Southern Literature and Truckin’ as well as in print in the collection My South: A People, a Place, a World All Its Own. In 2009 he self-published a collection of short stories and poetry entitled Returning the Favor and other slices of life. A native of Bullock Creek, SC, he currently lives in Charlotte, NC with his wife, Suzy. He was recently awarded the Charlotte Writer’s Club Board Prize for poetry. He likes good music and cheap beer. You can read more of his ramblings at http://www.johnhartness.com.
[...] poem Santa Fix, about a dysfunctional Christmas, was recently published in Deuce Coupe. I like this blog/journal [...]