Fantasist (3)

December 18, 2007

I saw Father Christmas earlier today.

He was standing in the Bike Park
on the edge of The Square,
fully decked out in a red velor suit

and a curly white beard.

I’d said: “Wow, Santa! –
you here for the Sleigh?”

with a tilt of the head

and wink of the face
and he’d looked –
vaguely startled –

the way someone would
who’d forgetten
they were wearing

a bright red suit.

Recovering himself
he’d smiled with a grunt
and turning away, said to a guy

with an oil stained front

something about
the theft of a bike
and a cheque in the post.

And I’d thought – my god –
people today – even Santa
isn’t safe – and my god –

if I was a different kind of girl
I’d hunt the guy down
with a ‘K47 or a

long range gun.

Then I’d remembered
that I’d probably watched
too many seasons

of Tony Soprano
and Buffy
The Vampire Slayer.

I paid for my wheel
and took myself off.


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