21^st July, H@llm@rk Ornament Premeire, 2001
Erika Bales

The store is framed in red and
Through the glossy picture-windows
A red-suited man ho-ho-hos to passersby,
Waving his fuzzy mitten,
Mechanically happy.
For although it’s ninety degrees
Outside, inside it’s Christmas,
Complete with plastic garland and silver-plated bells.
Ornaments are hung in the display with care,
In hopes that crazed shoppers soon will appear.
And boy, do they ever
Until the ravaged remains of the
Cheery, gold display
sadly contain a few scattered boxes.
 
Collecting is part of the
Spirit of the season.
Well known songs, mingling with shouting,
Waltz out of the speakers, their tinniness
Only adding to the glory
Of that man in frayed shorts, with a gut
And a beard reminiscent of Santa
Who happened to be
First in line.
The day wears on and darkness closes around the shop,
Pricked only by twinkling strings of light.
But none will outshine
The distant North Star.