The little plastic Christmas tree

I see you there, little plastic Christmas tree in the corner. You imbue playful polyester spirit into this stodgy space. Your sharp metal branches are laden with barbs and smeared with shreds of Chinese Astroturf. Sometimes, when your master grows too keen, she adorns, dresses, cloaks and veritably chains you in more plastic. The purple tinsel makes you fabulous, darling. The sparkling lights pre-programmed to “dim” or “flash” or “do pulsing” make you glow and dance like Beyonce’s delicate nipples. But you’re not hiding, you’re in the open, baby! Glad to be unpacked, assembled, seen and green. Merry Christmas, tree.