Car Wash Santa Poem by C Richard Miles

The swaying Santa at the car wash
Blindly beckons paying punters in
To spruce up petrol guzzling tin
For a temporary Christmas treat
But like the transitory puff of air
That, from the pressured hose,
Inflates then instantly disappears,
Briefly buffed-up gleaming motors
Mask a harsher modern truth
For this is what is Christmas now:
Hand polished for a week or so
To shine our tarnished world
Which still has need to peer
Beneath the tinsel and the glitz
To glimpse the mystery within.