Am I Halucinating

[Suzanne]

AM I HALUCINATING © Suzanne Honour

Am I hallucinating? Are we being overrun?
I think I’m seeing double. Look! There goes another one.
I’m running short of time, and I am really on the hop.
A plague of them has taken over every single shop!

The all look very similar but none are quite the same,
with fur lined hats upon their heads and jackets red like flame.
They’ve matching pants with buckled belts, and big black shiny boots.
The shopping centre’s choc-a-block with men in Santa suits.

There’s Santa outside Woolworth’s and there’s Santa outside Coles.
The Santa near the baker’s shop is giving out bread rolls.
A Santa near the butcher’s has a sample tray of meat.
I’m tired of pushing past them all and now I need a seat.

The bench is full of mothers waiting for their girls and boys
who headed for the toy shop where that Santa’s giving toys.
I turn towards the coffee shop and spy an empty space.
I make a beeline for it. I begin to pick up pace.

But Santa beats me to it and he takes the empty chair.
He’s mobbed by hordes of children who have come from everywhere.
He Ho, Ho, Ho’s in front of me and rings his jingle bell.
A haloed band of angels sweetly sing The First Noel.

A trolley crashes into me and lacerates my heel.
I never knew a shopping trip could be such an ordeal.
I limp my way through gridlock as I smile through gritted teeth,
wish strangers Merry Christmas and I buy a festive wreath.

My aggravation escalates as I glance at the clock.
It isn’t long till closing time. The shelves are low on stock
I know I should be cheerful, spread goodwill and say “G’day”
but have to get my shopping done, and Santa’s in my way!


This Santa’s having photos with a baby on his lap.
He gives a boy a brightly coloured present to unwrap.
Small children clamber on him as he sits upon his throne.
Their mothers take more photos to show Grandma how they’ve grown.

There’s one outside the library who is reading kids a book
and parents pushing past with prams all stop to take a look.
A little girl tugs on my dress. Distressed, she cries with woe.
“Excuse me Miss, will you help me? I really have to go”.

Another Santa saunters by. He’s handing out some sweets
and stops to share good wishes as he chats with those he greets.
There’s tall ones. There are short ones. Some are thin and some are fat,
and one is Japanese. I don’t know what to make of that!

I finally finish shopping. As I shuffle to the car
I come across a Santa who is strumming his guitar
A crowd has clustered close to him. They’re blocking my way out.
I have to stay and listen or must find a different route.

He serenades the people. I don’t want to ‘Let It Snow’
but ‘I’ll be Home for Christmas’ if they’d move and let me go!
A ‘Winter Wonderland’ for me would be a ‘Silent Night’.
I’d ‘Deck the Halls’ quite joyfully and not be so uptight.

I finally make it to the car, drive off and head for home.
My hubby says that I have caught the Santa Clause Syndrome.
“But all you have to is have a little Christmas cheer,
and all will be alright,” he says, “At least until next year.”

On Christmas day it’s wonderful and everything is fine.
The children open presents, and I sip a glass of wine.
The children call out happily that “Santa is the Best!”
but all parents really know that… SANTA IS A PEST!

[r.magnay]

...yes Suzanne, I just noticed this one and I must concur. it does seem to be a bit overdone these days doesn't it?