The Birthday Party

a poem by Jan Oskar Hansen

Late x-mass eve stragglers going home
And an army of fat, contract Santas is
Hanging up their red uniform for this
Year and changing into civvies. A well
Drilled army who makes life difficult
For the tramp who is bedding down in
A shop entrance. Not that he’s bitter,
Far from it, sad perhaps, after all it’s his
Birthday, the jolly army and their general,
The mighty Lucifer, manage to gatecrash
Every year.