Author: Chris Talbert

Safeway Ballard

Rarely, in life,

do you get these moments when you can

measure yourself,

as if handed a ruler,

against the lives of the people

you admire

in life.

I think about Dudley,

the archetypal male,

who defined the village

of Ballard,

he is fading

from the scene.

Why does this genius

transition to transparent

with time?

Bollocks!

Advertisements

This future self sucks

I stood

next to a barn

and felt

useless…

the people

who had built it

(and its twin)

were now

three generations

buried.

Still I stared,

in awe of my ancestors…

“How lazy, am I?”

I choked back,

now reflective

of this realization….

I’m the worst

my great-grandfather

could have feared.

Still,

here I am….

Old elf

So,

I’m holding onto Santa,

all 13 inches

of his animatronic self,

and I realize

i have no connection

with him….

When,

I implore,

did I stop believing?

(I

Do

Not

Know.)

Santa, in a way, is like religion:

Nobody believes, anymore…

But everyone functions

as though we do……

It may be a fallacy,

but,

does it function

for better,

or worse?

Merry Christmas.

Christmas, my boy.

I look at the face

of my six-year old son

and I’m overcome

by the saddest dichotomy…

I will not say

exactly what…

but the notion

that so much joy

and potential despair

lie within one tiny soul

drives me deep into melancholy;

safe passage,

I ask,

of the fates

when these thoughts mount

like so many thieves

looking to rob me

of my foundation.

I am not a productive soul,

but this beautiful boy

is my masterwork,

and i cannot contemplate

any path forward

wherein he does not

exceed me.