Glittered tinsel, tarnished with tacky primary colours
Hang above the no smoking area, where anti smokers cough conveniently
It’s like a barrier, reminds me of ash hanging off a cigarette *flicks cigarette*
I watch my smoke drift around the corner and down their throats

Christmas in chats is drab this year, I sit alone here, smiling thoughtlessly
The silence is unnerving
Everything around me reminds me of the cheerful British Christmas,
The ‘trying to be tasteful like the Americans’ Christmas
Which primary colours together do not fit


My eye jolts insistently to the cutlery holder
It’s Japanese symbol troubles me
It confuses me that everything else in here but this, reminds me of Christmas
A cathartic slash of black paint makes me feel better


Until All I can hear is Cliff Richard on their cheap tape recorder
Those child choirs always tap into my anger
But instead I laugh, it is Christmas after all

The menu’s on the walls are also wrapped in ash,
“steak and kidney pie, and chips, and pea’s and”
The board has been smudged but I’m sure it was mash potatoes or something similar
I order the tuna sandwich, forcing it down my throat out of sheer politeness

Then Elvis comes on, the old man behind me starts singing
I don’t dare look, but I smile once again
This time because I know at least one person here is happy.
So on my way out I leave a tip in their badly made Santa box
Knowing I’ll be back next week

12/14/2003

Author's Note: Us brits just can't do it like you americans! We are so tacky...yuk ahh but I love christmas, despite my need to be pessimistic ALL the time. Stay beautiful x

Posted on 12/14/2003
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