Fuck Santa Claus, I Want Some Latkes (Hanukkah Poem for My Family)

An SUV pulls up
there’s a giant menorah on top
five Orthodox Jews get out

they pile into the abandoned bus stop
and pull out cigarettes

they smoke
in their yarmulkes
and probably aren’t talking Torah

it is the third day of Hanukkah

this is the best gift I could get

and the best gift I could give

as Santa Claus farts in the wind

and the snow melts

as families sing songs
about god and struggle and joy

and Atheists order Chinese food
and play internet poker

I say a small silent amen

for you

for chain-smoking Jews

for all eight days

© 2009 Lee Kitzis

Wednesday ramble

mind-meltingly bored. burnt myself out on internet poker. only so many times i can have a fat nerd or zit-faced 18-year-old suck out against me to a beach scene back-drop before i look for something else to do. have a staker but the casinos are so damn far away and the weather is shit. don't know how i'm gonna pay rent. don't care. don't feel like writing poetry right now. almost never feel like reading it. the magazines are filled with guys named raymond. poets are obsessed with changing the world with introspective bullshit. everyone's trying to keep their bank account from being overdrawn. verse about your feelings on water with a french symbolist quote in the beginning just isn't gonna do it guys. sorry. one of the main problems with poetry is the reliance on metaphor. just say it assholes. most poets just fart out a metaphor here and a metaphor there. it should be used sparingly. it's like meeting someone for the first time. they start telling you a story. a good story's a good story. it'll engross you as is. if it's some guy throwing metaphors at you you're just gonna mace him in the face and be on your merry way. it happens every day in new york, london, chicago. he falls to the ground. he rubs his eyes. his conclusion: "they didn't get it." sorry. that's a metaphor.