We all sat cross-legged in the lounge
watching smatterings of purples
and blues and gold against
the back-drop of the all seeing eye
Some of us cried as the weight
of the past 365 days left our bodies
slapping the thought of things
can only get better.
Stoic and wishing a fucking
malevolent New Year
I watch the sloppy Auld Lang Syne
and baleful glances between boyfriends of girlfriends and girlfriends of girlfriends:
Amicable smiles and sweaty palms,
Soaking through mittens, foreheads covered
with prickling mohair.
I’ll probably wish I’m somewhere else next year but again I’ll be here cross-legged
Wishing for another year.