Christmas Cards

there they sit

a stack of cobwebs

tenuous links to the past

waiting to be written

 

to be sent

to people I rarely see

barely know

now

 

‘Happy Christmas’

‘Have a wonderful new year’

‘We must meet up soon’

we won’t

 

the cards that matter

will go unsent

to old friends

lost to time

 

I could write about the Saturday night

we reached 100mph

at 2am

driving home from Blanchardstown

singing along to ‘Babylon’

drowning out the roaring engine

 

I won’t

 

I could write about the winter evening

we shared churros in Picaderos

dipping them in melted chocolate

smiling at our decadence

hugging you goodbye

finding out six months later

from a mutual friend

about your second son

 

I won’t

 

I could write about that weekend

in Dingle

when you pretended to kick me in the balls

and followed through

me, laughing in agony

in foetal position on the ground

you, doubled over

tears in your eyes

trying to help me up

knowing that these

are the times of our lives

 

I won’t

 

I take a breath and pull the first card toward me

‘Happy Christmas’

‘Have a wonderful new year’

‘We must meet up soon’