Dear Santa, About Your Lists... (a paradox) - a Christmas poem

DEAR SANTA, ABOUT YOUR LISTS... (a paradox)
by
Greg Pincus

I’m really quite nervous I’m on the wrong list:
I’ve been “naughty” so much of the year.
And this means that Santa, if you do exist,
My Christmas won’t be full of cheer.

You see, this creates us a terrible mess.
Truly it wasn’t my goal,
But there’s only one thing I want, I confess:
A shiny, big, black lump of coal.

The problem, I think, is that if I’d been nice,
I’d get what I want in my stocking.
But since I behaved well perhaps once or twice...
To get what I want would be shocking.

Yet “naughty” kids get what I want, so you see...
That’s the reason I lied, spat, and stole.
Please keep that in mind when you come to my tree:
I want a big, black lump of coal.

I’d hate to get presents like music or money.
Don’t bring me a new catcher’s mitt.
No movies or Lego or books that are funny.
No, I wouldn’t like them one bit.

I know I was “naughty,” but please break your rule.
I’ve heard you’re a jolly old soul...
And giving me what I don’t want would be cruel!
So, please, bring a big lump of coal.

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