I would rather not be here, all things considered.
Even the cold and the wind of a feisty winter night
would be better than here and the slow suffocation of a country Christmas
a Willy Nelson and Johnny Cash Christmas.
If I had my way, I'd be in my room, snug
wrapped tight in my blanket and my illusions
that the world outside is alive,
instead of dead, dark, and cold
save for the three drunk souls
kept from the warmth and light of the pub
by a door marked push
that they cannot pull open for all their drunken strength.

AcB 12.28.00