21st Century Man. Poem by smee steve

Completed.
The decorations - tinsel and streamers - are taken down, folded & rolled-up, and shoved in a box until next year.
Our smiles can be dropped - our faces once again become serious.
This year I never felt anything - nothing spiritual touched me.
One moment in the middle of the town, walking south towards the old Woolworth's building, I looked up to the sky, a grey sky with clouds that scuddered across: greys and whites and all colours in between.
A monochrome sky.
A sky from the sixties.
And suddenly I felt the warmth of the season.
For an instant I felt the warmth of humanity.
For that fleeting moment I felt like a child again.

But then I faced forward.
Faced towards the way I was walking.
I faced the shops.
I saw their frontages.
I saw their commercial identities splashed above their window displays - their national power writ large in plastic graphic art.

And the breath was knocked out of me.
The weight of the coins in my pocket pressed against my leg.
I felt the bulge of my wallet poking my chest.
I felt, once again, like a 21st century man.
©