The Office Holiday Party

I subscribe to American Life in Poetry where former Poet Laureate Ted Koozer sends out emails featuring poets from around the country (and occasionally from around the world).  This isn't Shakespeare or Thoreau.  Koozer selects poems that capture everyday, simple emotions in short, little stanzas.

I thought I'd share today's poem because sometimes I feel like the annual holiday office party is a strange beast.  There's usually decorations, games, music, dancing, drinking... all the elements of a great party... but then you're forced to hang out with a bunch of co-workers that you would never hang out with outside of work.  I never really thought much about it before, but this can bring up some insecurities... as presented in this installment of American Life in Poetry:

At any given moment, there must be 100,000 of us trying to fit in, and finding it next to impossible. Here’s a wonderful portrayal of that difficulty, by Cristin O’Keefe Aptowicz, who lives in Astoria, New York.
At the Office Holiday Party

I can now confirm that I am not just fatter
than everyone I work with, but I’m also fatter
than all their spouses. Even the heavily bearded
bear in accounting has a little otter-like boyfriend.

When my co-workers brightly introduce me
as “the funny one in the office,” their spouses
give them a look which translates to, Well, duh,
then they both wait for me to say something funny.

A gaggle of models comes shrieking into the bar
to further punctuate why I sometimes hate living
in this city. They glitter, a shiny gang of scissors.
I don’t know how to look like I’m not struggling.

Sometimes on the subway back to Queens,
I can tell who’s staying on past the Lexington stop
because I have bought their shoes before at Payless.
They are shoes that fool absolutely no one.

Everyone wore their special holiday party outfits.
It wasn’t until I arrived at the bar that I realized
my special holiday party outfit was exactly the same
as the outfits worn by the restaurant’s busboys.

While I’m standing in line for the bathroom,
another patron asks if I’m there to clean it.