Inquisition: A Poem by Marc Alexander Valle

I played with toys until age 13.

Are they just friends?

Maybe until 14, just a couple times.

Do you think she’s cute?

I had a younger friend. That was my excuse.

Does she like him?

I was good with toys.

Does he like her?

I could conceive complex scenarios and cinematic dialogue.

Are they talking?

I had a lot of toys.

Are they going out?

I’d line them up and just look at them.

Did they kiss?

I asked my therapist why I was doing this while others were maturing. She said, “Is that really any of your business?”

©2019 Marc Alexander Valle

The Santa Poem by Marc Alexander Valle

(Feedback is welcome)

The Santa Poem

My brother told me that Santa doesn’t exist. He showed me where all the gifts were stashed. G.I. Joes were everywhere. I felt a thrill throughout my body. Finding that Santa doesn’t exist is a double-edged sword. Your childhood is almost over, but now you have the advantage in gift begging. You can manipulate your parents into getting you what you want, and now you have someone to blame when you don’t get it. I’ll probably lie to my kids about Santa if I ever have any. When they find the gift stash, I’ll still lie to them. One Christmas, our dad made us leave a can of beer for Santa. He said that he wanted to see if Santa would drink it. The can was empty in the morning.