When I figured it out–
my mother warned me not to tell
but I ran upstairs, rang his bell,
and told Tommy anyway.
My pal was waiting for weeks,
through all the Christmas joy and clutter,
the new baby, too many kids in that two-bedroom
and no chimney for the jolly one to slide down,
and five landings for him to make
on his long huff to the highest floor.
Ma, I wanted to show that I knew,
so I told him—
I told him–Instead of Santa
and Jesus and peppermint,
we had Hanukkah, and Houdini,
Einstein, Milton Berle,
latkes and chocolate gelt.
We light our candles to show the world–
and don’t hang stockings,
and don’t go down to the lobby
to decorate the tree,
then see it all lit up,
and sing Jingle Bells, and Fa la la la la,
and march in the parade round our house.
You said I should always feel proud—
Why wouldn’t I let my best friend know?
