Happy 22nd of December

Just heard Bob Dylan singing
“Here Comes Santa Claus” in his
Throaty, burned-out voice,
Bouncing through the senseless melody
Like an optimistic 9-year-old
After smoking a carton of Lucky Strikes.

Well, I want you all to know
That I’m alright,
But it was painful and
Disorienting, like I’d just
Walked into a Vegas showroom
And seen Neil Young
Tap-dancing in a peppermint-pinstriped
Jacket, or watched
Edward Norton sit on Santa’s fat
Velvet lap and ask for a rag doll.

I mean, I’d really thought this guy was
Serious, a perfect balance
Between a sadhu
And a train hobo, the last sort of guy
To make a Christmas album
Or to pay respects to anything associated
With happiness.
I didn’t even think Dylan knew
What Christmas was.

My hopes for a revolution
Have basically been deflated
And I may have to sell
My tambourine.
Still, to be absolutely fair,
Hearing the author
Of bitter epics like ‘Rolling Stone’ and
‘Desolation Row’ caroling the arrival
Of Saint Nicholas the day after
The misnomered ‘Mayan Apocalypse’
Does have its contra-operatic appeal. In the words
Of a thin-collared hipster in the Simpson’s
Mo’s Bar episode, “Unless you’re being i-ronical,
Please turn that OFF.”



1 Response so far »

  1. 1

    laura joakimson said,

    this is nice DS. of course my favorite bob dylan quote is, “If I wasn’t Bob Dylan, I’d probably think that Bob Dylan has a lot of answers myself.”

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