March 2005 / Volume VI / Issue II
Foster Dickson
Thanksgiving Eve

On a nasty day of rain and thunder,
my buddy up the street–
a bitter old hippie– stopped by
to ask if I knew where he could be
a mall Santa, to make enough
money so he could not-work
the other eleven months of the year.
I didn’t, but we started talking,
and he told me,
“Never do any work for
a church, that’s what I say.”
“It’s a little hard to ask Jesus for
the money up front,” I replied.
Tomorrow, we’ll give thanks,
and my friend still has no desire
to work.
Thank you, Lord . . . thanks for mall Santas,
and old hippies who hate to work,
and for cold, rainy days in November,
and for old red dogs that sit on porches,
and for me and this life,
and for being able to laugh at the whole thing.