By Thomas Kircher
They say
Dickens
Prowled the London
streets
At night while stalking
Scrooge
And Christmas
ghosts.
Like any good bounty hunter he
knew
They could be
tracked,
Captured at
gunpoint,
Put on
display,
Bent
against
That long moral
arc
That lived
within
His beating
heart.
If karma is a
bitch
She’s howling at the moon
tonight,
In this modern
age,
With its silos of steel and
glass,
Where bitcoins are
stored
Against the
beast
Now stirring at the
gate.
Old
Marley
Still rattles his
chains,
Only now,
like
The hooded man who
stands
At the gallows,
Offering out
advice,
Tells
Scrooge
Not to take the
bait
This time
around.
Times have
changed.
Tiny Tim is
just
Collateral
damage
In the cross-fire of the
culture wars.
Now the ghosts of Christmas
wait
For a drink with
Scrooge
Down at the bar. After
all,
There are still
Deals to be
done
Before the final
call.
Thomas Kircher
Biddeford, Maine
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