If you’re looking for yuletide cynicism here,
you’re shopping in the wrong place.

This is New York City’s time of year.
It’s stood the test of time and it fairly sparkles,
proving that the ordinary can be extraordinary.
With the right lighting.

Lisa’s (parent’s) apartment glitters like our promised heaven on high.
When we left at Thanksgiving, Michael (Lisa’s dad) had the concierge
service stressed, toting boxes of decorations up from their storage area.
When I waved my goodbyes, he appeared to be wrestling an octopus of
cool-white fairy lights into submission. Now everything glitters pyrite bright.

Our holiday time is limited—and this is our chance to unwind—so we’re
selective about what we decide to embrace. For instance, there was a sale
at Michael Kors where, no big deal, I got a pair of brogue, black
leather wingtips that’ll be straight fire with a little black dress.
The bargains were so good that I decided the store must be a drug front.
Not that I’m complaining. Do I ever complain? Nope, I’m stoic.

Like Eric Adams, the mayor of New York, Lisa and I’ve
been “testing the product” of Manhattan's club scene.
We’re searching diligently for the new and unfamiliar.

When it comes to picking which clubs we want to visit,
Charles, our driver and escort (a retired NYPD cop),
has gone as far as to suggest, we’re “out of our depth,”
and refused to let us even try one or two DJ’d, pop-up clubs
in Queens that were getting a lot of heat and likes.
“Roosevelt Avenue is the new 42nd Street,” he’d said.
What does that even mean??
Indignant silence

Anyway,
I hope Christmas finds you all merry and bright and that your holidays—whichever you celebrate— are carnivals of food, music, friendship and love—for those are the luxuries that count the most.
Merry Christmas! Happy Hanukkah! Merry Kwanzaa, Happy Festivus!
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Songs for this:
Absolutely Everybody by Vanessa Amorosi
Rock With You by Traincha
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A Christmas Playlist—because there's 4 days til Christmas
https://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_28.mp3

shall i compare myself to others every day?
they are more charming, and more talented:
tough luck does take its toll; often too hefty to pay,
and the bill of regrets is way past its due date;
sometimes too hot the baton of pride burns inside,
and often in a sea of mediocrity naked, i swim;
and every ball from ball sometimes drops,
by a poet in his underpants, and *****, untrimm’d;
but my eternal hard-on shall not fade,
nor lose faith inside the hole i bore’st;
nor shall spite keep me from dues unpaid,
when that eternal hard-on in time so grow’st:
so long as i can sing, profoundly and care-free,
so long lives this - it’s a fun read, won’t you agree?

I heard the door open. It was Leeza (Lisa’s 14-year-old sister),
she’d been out on a date. I was the only one in the living room
as she came in and sagged, dejectedly onto the huge, white
sectional couch, right next to me. She looked positively
deflated. Which is unusual because up until now,
she’s been all freckles and smiles

Ok, here’s where we get poetic and rhyme, with innuendo and allusion:

Me: “Did you have a good time?”
Leeza: “No but I was trying.”
Me: “Did he get handsy—the swine?”
Leeza: “Argh! No—but his kisses are a crime.”
I gasped: “You didn’t give him a climb!?”
Leeza “NO!” she said, somewhat horrified.
Me (trying to be neutral): “No judging, it would have been.. fine (I lied).”
Leeza: “That’s never going to happen.”
“Good,” I declared, “he was just a distraction—and, you know Santa.”
“What about Santa?”

Whew, that’s enough of THAT (rhyming business).

She asked, so, yeah, I sang it.. I had to.

“He knows who you’ve been kissing,
what you’re thinking when you’re awake,
he knows if you’ve been bad or good—
he’s kind of like a cop that way.”

After a moment's silence Leeza asked,
“Is there something creepy about that?”
“Only if you think about it.” I admitted,
as she put her head on my shoulder.
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A song for this:
Fairytale of New York (feat. Kirsty MacColl) by The Pogues
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A Christmas Playlist! There’s 6 days til Christmas (and Hanukkah)
http://daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_25.mp3

mud in rainwater
bubbles with irreverence;
a dog steps on it.

Because ankles are bound to get hot
In underwear collars why not
Raise up the stall door,
To ventilate more?
You’ll feel like you’re on board a yacht.

Spot red flags,
and tick the boxes.
Do the math,
then chase the foxes.

There once was a girl who needed a treat,
ignited the stove, and turned up the heat.
Her cupboard was bared,
and linens were aired,
and USDA inspected the meat.