The Week Before Christmas

‘Twas the week before Christmas and Sam was at work,
Waiting tables with gusto and cheer.
For even in midtown in peak tourist season,
‘Tis a wonderful time of the year.

The night had been fun and the customers chipper,
Sharing dinner with family and friends,
And Sam was the guy bringing wine at the starts,
And off’ring dessert at the ends.

In walked a pair of young people in love,
And they sat in a booth at the back.
The waiter named Sam grabbed a bottle of water,
And prepped himself for the attack.

He greeted the two as he filled up their glasses,
And offered them house wines and beers,
The young man looked up and the lady looked down
At a phone filled with newsfeeds of peers.

“We’ll take just a moment,” the young fellow said,
And the waiter acknowledged and left.
He tended the others he’d promised to serve
And returned with a timing most deft.

“May I tell you the specials?” the waiter inquired,
And the young man replied all alone,
For the young lady he sat across from that night
Was invested in Facebook and phone.

The waiter recited the fish of the day,
As well as the steak and the starter,
As if they were written by Bill Shakes himself,
And with faux-Southern charm a la Carter.

During the speech, the young lady glanced not
At the waiter, or even her beau.
She just scrolled and she liked, and she commented on
Every status that popped to and fro.

The waiter thought naught, for he’d seen many sights
Such as this, being but twenty-seven.
For millennials all are connected and linked
Through a mystery cloud sent from heaven.

He left them to ponder the menu a while,
And began to continue his shift,
When the young lady looked up and beckoned him back,
With a wave that was anxiously swift.

“I’m sorry,” she said, “but could you please remind
me?  The special, the one with the fish?
You see, I spaced out and I would like to know
what appears on today’s seafood dish.”

Sam paused, and he sighed, and recited again,
But the charm from before was erased.
“And what was the steak?” she continued to prod,
For through that, too, the lady had “spaced.”

He curtly and carelessly sputtered it out,
And prompted an order most quick.
“She lied,” thought the waiter, “And so I don’t care
If I come off to them as a dick.”

They ordered, he wrote, and he thought to himself,
In a soapboxy, sensitive mood,
“This is the reason, beyond any doubt,
That our elders all find us so rude.”

The waiter, he left them, he typed up their order,
And sent it all off to the cooks.
And once more, he turned to the booth at the back,
And he gave the pair one of his looks.

But then, his impatience, it wafted away,
And he no longer felt quite so mad…
For the young man who looked at the lady he loved
Looked with eyes that were lonely and sad.

For she had returned to the virtual world
Filled with Twitter and Snapchat and Vine.
And the young man across from her couldn’t compete,
So he silently sipped at his wine.

The waiter drank coffee and pondered the pair,
While they waited for food to arrive,
When at once it occurred to him, “Maybe it’s that
She’s become an external hard drive.

“The world is so linked and its people so tuned
To machines and computers and phones,
That at times it would seem that the wireless feed
Simply channels itself through our bones.

“These times are a-changin’, and so very fast
That it’s hard to know what is correct.
But the things that we hold in the palms of our hands
Were created so we could connect.

“They’re useful in business, and keeping in touch,
When before, distance wouldn’t allow.
But it’s also important to look up sometimes,
And remember who’s with us right now.

“I also am guilty a lot of the time,
And I know many others, as well,
Who spend their vacations and home visitations
Locked up in a fun little cell.

“I’m just getting old,” he concluded and thought
Of the pain in his left knee at times,
As well as his fondness for seltzer, and prunes,
And for thinking in stanzas of rhymes.

The time trickled by and the waiter worked on,
Trying hard his old age to conceal,
When he looked at the tables in back to discover
The couple had finished their meal.

Sam gave them their check, they paid and began
To collect their belongings and leave.
The young man, he held out the young lady’s coat
And assisted each arm through each sleeve.

The young lady smiled at the young man, her date,
And with movement both subtle and vast,
She looked at the phone in her hand, and she stopped—
And it dropped in her purse, at long last.

They walked out the door, just the two, hand in hand,
And they stopped outside, mister and miss.
They looked at each other, without but one screen,
And they shared in a holiday kiss.

Like that, they were gone, and the waiter, he thought
As he gazed at the touristy crowds,
“Maybe there’s still something left in the world
More important than what comes from clouds.”

There’s something quite special to give to your friends,
Be they noblemen, bankers, or peasants.
At this time of year, to the people we love,
The best gift we can offer is presence.