Whose gift this is I do not know
I wrapped it seven days ago.
There’s no distinctive marking here
Except this festive store-bought bow.
The box’s shape is kind of queer
Two lumpy mounds like a brassiere
But feels like wood or frozen cake;
Don’t ever wrap while drinking beer.
I give the gift-wrapped box a shake
And know I’ve made a huge mistake.
Who gets this gift will have to sweep;
I’m pretty sure I heard it break.
The checkout lines are long and deep
But I must shop before I sleep,
Though malls at Christmas make me weep,
Though malls at Christmas make me weep.