“Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”
Song introduced by Judy Garland, 1944
To some unknown address they’re made to go—
our troubles, seized like mental contraband
and smuggled quickly to a foreign land,
miles away from merry lights and snow.
Maybe all our troubles will escape
like criminals, to a cyber cloud,
(everything else is there, it’s all allowed,)
and vanish like some outlaws on the take.
Most likely they’ll be right outside our door,
and only briefly banished from our brains.
We’re never to be free of them again;
and as we wait for golden days of yore,
I wonder, were they gold, or only glitter?
It’s Christmas. There’s no reason to be bitter.