All I Want for Christmas

All I want for Christmas

is the full collection of Charles Bukowski novels,

preferably signed or at least in relatively good condition,

two crates of Stella Artois with the festive snowflake design on the cans,

half an ounce of marijuana,

four ounces of Drum Gold tobacco,

three packs of little green rizzla,

two packs of menthol filters

and a partridge in a pear tree.

All I want for Christmas

is a personalised message from Santa Claus

only instead of Santa Claus

it’s Bob Dylan wearing a Santa hat,

singing, “Dane, you took my shoe,

and just like a rolling stone,

I want to work with you.”

All I want for Christmas

is Stephen King

reading my books and things

and giving me the gift

of a pithy quote

for the front cover.

All I want for Christmas

is you,

naked from the waist up,

covered in syrup

and a big wooden spoon

to eat you with.

All I want for Christmas

is world peace

and no religion,

which gets kind of deep

when you remember

what Christmas is.

Unfortunately,

I’m naughty not nice,

so this year

I’m just getting

coal.

It’s the story of my life;

I don’t even own

a fireplace.