Claustrophobic Christmas. We two stood together apart for five minutes or more, Waiting on an (American) elevator or (British) lift, No way was I considering walking up to the top floor; That exercise in futility received lightning short shrift. Finally Otis arrived, and I stepped towards the door Only to be, first, left standing, secondly, left miffed As she swept past me, and with raised red painted claw Jabbed her button first, cementing our yawning social rift. She looked down upon the funky grungy garb I wore, This high-end consumer looked to be no fan of my thrift, Lifting a perfectly plucked eyebrow at this walking eyesore, Pointedly tilted up her snooty aristocratic nose as if I whiffed. Soon an unpleasant presence appeared neither could ignore, Stuck in the close confines I retchedly gagged while she sniffed Before showily reaching into her Gucci and spritzing more Dior, But she wouldn't catch my watering eye, if you catch my drift.