In the gray light of this late autumn morning 
a young mother with holiday bags on her arms 
and another set underneath her eyes, carries on
– assuming with positive intent – the American 
tradition of some overweight man crawling 
through chimneys. Stepping out unscathed by soot. 
Her son, barely three and giddy with trust, hungrily 
eats this up like a peaceful Thanksgiving meal. 
These lies that we carry cautiously like gifts
and pass onto our children like genes who 
then pass them onto his or her friends always
(in the end) come back unpleasantly to hurt us.