The Boobirds of Christmas by Mark Tulin

It was 1968, Christmastime,
and Santa was tied up at a barroom
on West 53rd, downing a few more
with the Philly faithful

His elves kept reminding him of the time,
but big Santa didn’t yet get his fill
It was still early, and the game didn’t start,
Santa said, so I’m drinking a few more
and going to play Skee-Ball with the Vets

It was a snowy Sunday, the day the Eagles played
in old, rundown Franklin Field
Santa just barely climbed on the sleigh,
half-tanked, he didn’t know which end zone
was which or who should sit on his lap

At halftime, as Santa was handing out presents,
some Eagle fans booed and pelted him with snow
Drunken Santa wasn’t no slouch, packed some in his hands,
and launched them at the green and white.

Mark Tulin is a former psychotherapist who lives in California. He has a Pushcart Prize nomination and authored Magical Yogis, Awkward Grace, The Asthmatic Kid and Other Stories, and Junkyard Souls. He appeared in numerous publications and podcasts. He can be found at https://www.crowonthewire.com.