Watching the Polar Express for the 35th time,
Sugary delightfulness a pleasantly pacified delusion.
Orbs melting into the tube, Poor Scrooge, terrorized by the hobgoblins, relents.
Ralphie, on the verge of an adolescent explosion, believes.
Glazed eyes barely able to open, slits of ignorance reflect off of the screen.
Cindy Lou Who laments the sanctity of Whoville.
A call of “Squirrel” does not divert.
So the day drags on.