Christmas

A single chimney, hidden in fog
Mature trees without leaves, beautifully content
An ornate hotel ceiling
The sounds of a bartender dumping buckets of ice
Gloomy, grey, unseasonably warm
Everything is wet but it’s not raining, a gentle mist about
Raindrops hanging onto steel chairs
A young red head girl turns the lights on

Alone
the day after Christmas
in a hotel,
legs crossed
wool socks in moccasins.
Holiday music fills an empty room

Oddly content
Not much loneliness

My friends are with their families,
In front of warm fire places,
Children playing with new toys
in pajamas
with glasses of milk.
Televisions turned on but no one is watching
Maybe listening to the same Charlie Brown song that I am
Maybe making love to their wives, maybe not
Maybe they’re as destitute as I am, just in a different place
In their home, on their couch
Blue, empty, cold, emotionally sterile
On the back nine of life, scared, but in front of a fireplace
with sugar cookies and candy canes and eggnog and beer and expensive whiskey that’s not to be drank this early

Christmas lights to be taken down
Nativity scenes to be packed
Plastic garland, wrapped around staircases and fireplaces to be put in boxes

A single chimney with no smoke
What kind of person doesn’t have a fire today?
I wish I was inside that townhome
I’d have a big fire, and eggnog, and little colorful lights on the tree

I wouldn’t be alone in wool socks
in an empty hotel
looking at an ornate ceiling
Staring out a window at something I want and cannot have
…at least today

Written December 26th, 2023 - Atlanta