Esplanade.
So many new faces, squirming;
and I sit like a prince.

Whisky stinks.
Fresh packed cookies;
Complaints about the door that does not open.
All in one life – old, anaemic.

Someone laughs.
someone turns back to look;
at another woman, another man beside her.
They all celebrate life.

I feel nauseated
Liquor – premium and strong.
Life – derelict and forlorn.
Christmas eves on earth;
are like boils of some viral infection
on our Churches and Tubes alike.