Poetic License: Underwater Christmas
Tis the night before Christmas in Florida’s Southwest,
Not a bank that survived will lend or invest.
The stores are all open till the stroke of midnight –
In hopes a late shopper will come into sight.
Portfolios still hang with their stocks stripped bare
While Republicans dream of repealing health care.
The home equity we tapped has completely run dry,
But the rich keep getting a bigger slice of the pie,
Like rats returning to a sinking ship,
They’ve auctioned the condos we once planned to flip.
Tis the night before Christmas in our “underwater” house,
Not a crumb left over for even a mouse,
We’re dining on food stamps this Christmas night
In our remodeled kitchen, our Euro delight —
The extension we added to help entertain
Still cluttered with posters from Obama’s campaign.
I’ve cut down on Viagra as has Mom on Botox
We’ve sent back to Comcast our new cable box.
That cruise round the world seems far off tonight
As we lie down in darkness to save on the light,
Waiting like children for the clatter and click
Of someone downstairs who won’t be Saint Nick.