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At the shopping centre.
I saw Santa.
Jolly old man he wasn't.
Body Mass Index about 50.
Dressed for the North Pole
for the Tropics in summer.
A pretty little thing
of about 4 was carrying
reindeer food.
I told her that,
in these island communities
of ours, Santa travelled
by whale. Humpback, no less.
She wanted to know,
with anxious voice,
'Do whales eat this stuff? '
Of course, I said,
seeing that the faux-pas
was staring me in the face.
Herbert Nehrlich
Read poems about / on: shopping, food, summer
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