I’m a winter girl, I cannot lie
(I could give you 13 reasons why).
If this were the Christmas season, what a jolly apparition
You’d find me to be in my yuletide condition:
Cropped and tight in a warm ribbed sweater,
I might even break out the high-waisted lycra,
Christmas makes me feel so discofied and friendly:
Everyone’s being so jolly.
We could make a date underneath the holly,
Set out for some of the hardy perennial
Watering holes, well-iced
(But my holes are toasty!)
Tuesday tea and sympathy at the old folks’ café.
Dopey Disneypop jingles set nerves a tingle
Ready to jam beneath the Christmas tree:
Shake my booty like a wrapped present, see
What goodies hide inside.
But for now: iced tea and clam chowder,
Hot rolls, Philadelphia cheesecake for dessert--
I might have to purloin a tenderloin off your plate
In case I’m feeling famished and naughty.
Have I told you, by the way, how much I enjoy
I should write that down on a card and mail it to
You-- one of those cards
With an Old Masters painting of the Virgin and Child,
Yes, that’d be sweet: on the front, the Mother and Child,
Bright with beams of Baroque holy splendor
And inside, behold, your handmaiden’s low
Confession, dirty as an unmarked manger: yeah, it’ll be a
“Wild wild Christmas, if you’re with me.” . . .
But instead, it’s June. I could make
Plans for next week, here in the
Heat, how I can unwrap and
Unravel you, while your eyes surmise my
Muffintop popping in this blistering
Heat (and yes, these wetlook leggings might be a
Mistake for the moment, only for the moment, and
That’s why Debbie H. is so nicely oversized).
Your sunfried thoughts turn to weekend love
And where does that leave me? While I
Hide inside, you parade your conquests, bikini-
Clad, at Mom and Dad’s cookouts, everyone pleased
As punch with you, you cornfed horndog. Goddamnit
All. Try not to catch any social diseases, m’kay?
I’m patient as a spider and I hate the light.
So I’m just gonna spin my web, snow-white
Inside, while I wait, ever-present. I’m gonna
Keep it goin’ on, and I know
We can fuck out in the snow, or
Hang me on your Christmas tree:
“It’s gonna be a wild wild Christmas”
When you’re with me.
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<a href="https://www.lushstories.com/stories/love-poems/wild-christmas-in-june.aspx">Wild Christmas (in June)</a>