They fought less that Christmas, all of us
applauding Dad’s glint-eyed banter, Mom’s
 
cowboy waffles, the way they duo-glided
from beribboned room to room, Paddy
 
hanging off Dad’s leg, giddy, robin-
breasted; Jay-Boy’s laugh a waterfall
 
whatever song he played; Mom herself
a-shimmer as if savoring a secret nowhere
 
bright as Dad’s, none of us near-guessing
his next act booked to open on someone 
 
else’s stage, the leading lady velvet gloss,
her sleigh on New Year’s snow.
                        

Made it through the We wish you a merry
whiskey old-fashioned artichoke dip & shrimp
asp Hark the  humus & deviled eggs + two
turtle doves in the crème de menthe and the
what-does-your-father (I don’t know) when-did-
you-gradu- (never did) where-are-you-work (no
place now) then 3 AM race from guest room
past her room past their room to the pitch
black bathroom and whew! the commode 
just as bowel unloads - except
 
lid’s down flat and in it I’ve sat
O holy night
every towel white as snow
                        

Of course money can’t buy
a holiday weekend
like dear Winnie and I
used to have.
But if she’s thick in the hips
or a dim switch, who cares?
Just want someone who’s willing
to let me reminisce.
We’ll linger over streusel,
drink egg nog, play piano,
pore over Scrabble and Backgammon,
watch classics on TV.
Laid it out in my ad
for the agency:
 
Widower wants
weekend companion
No strings attached
 
so could this be she?
Bus in from Chicago
belching out a lady
skinny as a rail
in clumsy galoshes,
another with her hair
coiled ‘round foam rollers
(thank God not for me)
and then this one clutches
a small overnighter;
she’s stout as a barrel,
lips thin and pinched.
Helena?  I approach,
holding out my hand.
Eyes narrow to slits,
and she further stiffens.
You better not be the next
mistake of my life!
barks the glaring biddy,
my merry Christmas wife.