Hurrying to work the weather so dismal,
All this Christmas cheer is humbug to me.
The people on the street irritate me
The joy on their faces does not fit the circumstances
Feet are frozen, fingers numb
I need a bigger coat, more warm layers
How I long for the office, air con to settle my nerves.
I hate my job,
The tedious repetition no better when its cold
Around me, people talk of holidays
Family get-togethers, gifts and surprises.
I sit at lunch in a corner excluded from the festivities
I’m the Grinch in their eyes
But alone in the world like the man in the phone booth
One voice in the wilderness of cold
Shivering inside his red box,
I hope he wasn’t calling for help,
Not that there’s much this time of year
When focusing on ourselves is all that’s needed.
Folding up my lunch scraps I pass the pretty girl
The one who works in accounts
And I wonder who loves her:
I wish it were me.