Santa Baby: A poem by A.P. Lewis

By A.P. Lewis

Santa Baby

Eartha Kitt croons
from inside a crate of vinyl
concealed by bargain racks
of obscure t-shirts
at Sunday’s flea.

Your ear-rings well-kempt
wi/ baseball cards and letters.
They jangle like tinsel from last year’s tree.

Specs of swimming- white thru liquid,
a snow globe in slow motion

We wore similar colors
when we danced to santa baby
at 11:59
on x-mas eve

Your laughter, a bellicose old man’s
and I’m a harlequin

We laugh off our grace in the kitchen mirror,
more wildlife pics in national geographic.

I’m from Carlisle,
and you’re from Abilene.

We dance to santa baby somewhere

When you dommed in San Diego
I packed books at an overnight factory.

Away in the manger-
the gypsy cab, the bill collector,
the landlord’s daughter,
a nativity obscene.

Now it’s snowing constantly;
Now it snows constantly.

‘Santa Baby’ is from the forthcoming No Variation on the Old Theme.
A.P. Lewis is born in Philadelphia in 1976.

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