Songs of Eretz Poetry Review is pleased to present “Christmas Eve Morning” by Gerard Sarnat our Poet of the Week for the week of January 4, 2015. One of Dr. Sarnat’s poems has been featured in the Review every day this past week. His bio may be found here: http://eretzsongs.blogspot.com/2015/01/poet-of-week-gerard-sarnat.html.
It's funny having different kinds of friends, some vegetarians,
some better in person, others cell phone material of which rarely
but now I am one. It 's not exactly fun beached here in the sand
envying the runners, of which I used to be but now am not one.
A lifeguard screeches his snaz yellow surfboarded SUV, hands
a girl a Band-Aid plus an extra for Mommy to put on, enjoys.
After vaping a little weed, he and I zoom down the Esplanade
past the apartment Thomas Pynchon wrote Gravity’s Rainbow,
land with a thump in Hermosa. A gentleman who looks lots like
he’s got a case of unlubricated Parkinson’s dementia, slooowly
bends to pick up a bunch of cigarette butts, puts ‘em in a baggy,
comes to a full stop on a bench outside the barber chair reserved
for eleven to prettify me before the holidays. Years of homeless
work observe the old man’s britches are clean pressed fairly new,
his stare wears a sunhat, there’s no shopping cart or loaded-up
wagon in sight -- so I assume someone’s taking care of him.
The shop’s longtime owner invites his elder to occupy the empty
chair where Adam shares memories of back in the day when
this ghost of a human was the Jimi Hendrix Experience drummer
after Mitch Mitchell OD’d. Just for the hell of it, playing Santa,
I slip my buds into the ex-musician’s ears, hit Foxy Lady, clear
the decks of holly and watch as catatonia explodes into boogie.
Poet’s Notes: “Christmas Eve Morning” updates a Kerouac-y bounce with a dollop of bizarre heartwarming Thomas Pynchon, who lived and wrote on this So Cal beach.
Editor’s Note: I definitely hear the Kerouac-ian notes in this one and find the unexpected story of the homeless musician to be quite touching.