African American Night Before Christmas

Folder: 
Holiday Poems

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It was the night before

Christmas and all through

the crib nothing was under

the tree; not even a rib.

.

My ol' lady and the kids

were in dream city, I figure

that pretty good. I hope

this late that be true

for the rest of the hood.

.

Then, damn! What's all that

racket up on the ceilin'?

I'm getting that get my

gun creepy somebody

breakin' in feelin'.

.

But no, it's just Santa

and his eight deer crew on

a crash in. (Why come I forget

at least one reindog whenever

I list 'em?)

.

I slipped up the back stairs,

had to check out his ride.

Nice wheels, St. Nicky; chrome

rim-blades spinnin' and sparklin'

front and back sleigh side.

.

Red and white ain't good colors

fo a phat low-rider saint. Gone

be a tight fit down my furnace

with a overstuffed saddle bag.

I betcha he cain't.

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allets

11-29-16

801a

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