I don't have to ask what you're doing this Christmas;
if you're anything like the person that I knew,
I know that you are spending a solitary Christmas,
in that hollow house that you're so proud of,
shuttering the high windows, turning up the heat,
wearing shorts, muting the radio, and staying off the busy streets.
You're pretending that it's April,
and that you don't have a family,
and that you don't resent the children their dreams.
I don't have to ask what you're doing this Christmas,
but I do,
pretending that it's possible
that you'll spend Christmas with your family
and that you're nothing like the person that I knew.