Doppelganger

He began the story, then paused
saying he definitely wasn’t the oldest,
or plumpest.
He couldn’t say he was the kindliest either,
he would like to,
but the truth was
he was actually the slowest –
the slowest to pass the buck,
the slowest to find an excuse, or reason not to.

So, there he was,
decked out in whiskers and a red suit,
in the hottest part of the country,
at almost the hottest time of the year,
being Santa at the children’s Christmas party,
handing out sweets and gifts,
listening to wishes of train sets and Barbie dolls.
He thought he’d made a pretty good fist of it
until the job report came in
and
one kid told his parents,
Father Christmas sounded just like John Hayward –
“ when he was being stupid.”