Saturday, 10 December 2016

The Holy Grail by Naomi Elana Zener


 Happy Chanukah!
Merry Christmas!
That time of year is now here.
Deep in wallets we stretch,
To buy kids gifts and good cheer.
My quest is for 1980s childhood toys,
That once delighted both girls and boys.
As an adult, no more have I mine,
My father threw them out, I whine.
To replace them today, a fortune they cost.
A goldmine of toy treasures has been long lost.
Scouring eBay high and low,
Through Etsy search pages I go.
In my pursuit for the simulacrum Holy Grail,
To pay prices asked, on my Visa I’ll self-impale.
I must begin with exorbitant Exhibit A.
An 80s nonpareil so costly, to my dismay.
A Cabbage Patch Doll, untouched, new in box.
To buy, I must sell my shirt, pants, both socks.
1985 was the ‘it’ year for that doll.
Upon seeing its price, my mouth surely did fall.
Way back in the day they were had for max fifty.
High price for our folks, but those kids were so nifty.
New versions made today are total shit.
So, to Ebay my search I did submit.
Pay no less than two hundred smackers large,
To creepy collectors who are in charge.
You can click “buy it now” for ease and avoid,
Bidding wars amped up on anabolic steroids.
Fear not, I tell myself, you must buck up
Perhaps My Little Pony’s the tea in kids’ cup.
First generation of the vintage variety,
Much cuter than ones in current society.
For thousands of dollars the plastic ponies will sell.
Diamonds are cheaper, I’m in seventh circle of Hell.
The high price on Rainbow Brite’s head gave me a fright.
To buy it, I can’t pay mortgage for a fortnight.
Recall the siren song of that minx Teddy Ruxpin,
Paying that kind of money for faux fur is a sin.
If I buy one more scented Strawberry Shortcake,
When Hubby sees Visa, ‘twill be my ass that bakes.
I can’t even think about adding a Glo Worm.
To do so means Husband will have to sell sperm.
Beyond my snack bracket are vintage Transformers.
I’d have to dance in bars for naked performers.
Forget Gem, her Holograms, She Ra, and He Man.
Bid on them, my family will live in trash cans.
Nonetheless, I got caught up in a spending spree.
Call me shopaholic, childhood anew ain’t free.
Prized toys arrive, mine now once again.
Hoping my kids will be in heaven.
But, alas ‘twas not to be the case,
Evidenced by the look seen on my face,
Opened, stared at, then promptly discarded.
With “I told you so,” I’m now being bombarded.
When toys are swapped out to play with iPad,
Technology today has made me sad.
“So what,” I say looking down at my haul.
I’m 8 once again, feeling proud and quite tall.
Bending down to play with my toys on one knee,
Merry Christmas, Happy Chanukah I wish to me.



© 2016. Naomi Elana Zener. All Rights Reserved.


1 comment:

  1. I personally really enjoy satire. I think it is good to read something non serious sometimes. This poem you have written about the shoe lover is great.

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