Poem??

I've been reading Edna O'Brien's new book, The Little Red Chairs.   And there's this on page 13 (author, if not O'Brien, unknown), though the italic formatting is mine:

"Santa didn't come

His brother took his place

Santa's dead.

Santa's dead?

That's what he said.

Annihilated on his sled?

 That's what he said.

Well, this is it, son,

This is it.

Dark, dark shit....

Good question!!

Finally I have my hands on Robert Henri's book, The Art Spirit.  On page 82, he asks,

Why do we love the sea?  It is because it has some potent power to make us think things we like to think.

 So....What are these things we like to think??