Between the plate glass
And the security bars
Hung a red and gold sign:
“Felíz Navidad.”

As my socks and dirty underwear
Churned with my jeans
I browsed a book
On that “most famous” passage in Kant
That lays open
The deep gash between
The world that is
The world that ought to be.

Above the rusty dryers
Another sign:
“Do not put babies in carts.”

Easy to imagine
The ugly gash
If one tumbled head first
To the unforgiving floor below.

No more I suppose
Ought a responsible mother
Put a newborn in a manger.

Ironic then
That we who say
“Felíz Navidad”
See beginning there
The convergence of
The world that is
With the world
That ought to be