In Home Alone,
Kevin tells Santa that he’s old
enough to know how “it” works
before explaining “it” incorrectly.
Coincidence that he would rumple
into tabloid sepia mugshots like MJ,
whose house Macaulay slept at amongst
monkeys and glitter? What about the shapes
when I fold this money? A Rorschach of paranoia
flying out at you like hornets.
It’s all just pro wrestling anyway.
The fixes are in, the faces are paid,
and you all go along feigning.