‘Twas the Night Before Christmas in Brooklyn

‘Twas the Night before Christmas, when all through the building,

There was only the sound of silence and an empty feeling,

The homemade leather stockings were hung with love and care,

You could also find them on Etsy for a price that was both reasonable and fair,

The hipsters were fast asleep in their ironic race car beds,

While visions of mustache-bikes and bands no one has heard of yet, break danced  and twerked in their heads,

The foodies tried to sleep but of course they were wide awake,

so they YELPED about a shitty breakfast and Instagrammed red velvet cupcakes,

The professionals were long gone, away on a vacation,

Spending what you and I pay in rent, just to arrive at the destination,

They tried to sleep but insomnia was the trend,

Especially when they forgot to pack a week’s supply of their sleep-crutch I mean Ambien,

No DJ’s were mixing, no punks were garbage-sifting,

‘Twas just me in my apartment, drinking eggnog and think-a-linking,

All the people were gone, and that was more than alright,

For the first time since I moved to New York, I might just have my first silent night.

 

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