I don’t know what it is about Christmas


Beginning the 25 days of advent

I decide I should go on a diet

A perhaps method of making myself

A little more impressive and less bumbling

Through these festive meetings

and festive feelings.

Yesterday peppermint candy cane latte misted my eyes while

I babbled; thinking perhaps a good Christmas gift would be my

Absent sense of sophistication.

My friends’ eyes float innocently to their phones.

And I tag their faces accordingly.

One, editing photos. The other, arranging a date

The third, possibly discussing his

community Christmas gift drive.

I sink in my self-subjected isolation

Lulled by seasonal lullabies.

Outside the window, light vanishes into light

And every snowflake is in fact a character of its own

Dendrical, sectored, rimed or radiating

I shiver with the realization that the white kisses on my skin are each

A cold morphology, like myself

Frozen in change.

Above me the sky is soft grey and gentle lights line the street,

A reminder of tenderness, or its absence.

I blink back bewildered tears as a

blanket of cold finds me, assuring

It’s not a sin to be weaving through them

with nothing in my hands

concentrationAfter my little depressive bout last week I set my mind to getting some errands done to ease my inertia. Familiar songs and familiar smells of Christmas are all about now. I have a few short weeks to revise (or rather to start and finish studying) the semester’s work, lose enough weight to fit into a pair of pants and get my body and mind fit enough before I head for the ski slopes and then to London. The annual year-end fix yourself challenge.


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