Tuesday, August 8, 2017

Death of the Party

I see you.  I behold all of you.  Your little party.  Your feigned joyous vocal ejaculations upon seeing each new guest.  “Oh how have you been?”   “Oh my look how preggers you are!”

Partaking of food, of drink, I sit her, perched in the corner.   I hear you, I comprehend your motives.  You, broad shouldered rugby type, you want to go home with her.  Your smiles are bigger for her, your eyes, though distracted, re-calibrate constantly with her at the center.

You, oh how big and rich you are.  You telling about your job, and how everyone jumps at your command.   And you telling about your boat, your vacation, your family.

Oh now you’re all talking about your hot molded bodies, under the guise of fitness hints.  

What a scene.  I sit in the corner. And now I strike.   Each of you analyzed, each of you primed to fall.  With the a paring knife I slice through the tethers you’ve been so gently weaving throughout the night.   The girl you want?  I distract her with culture.  You fume.  She laughs.  I have no need of tethers.   I deflate your dirigible by talking about your companies scandals.   Oh sure I don’t mention your company, I just mention in passing something I heard in the news.   Now your blimp is limp.  The hot molded bodies.   I cannot destroy that, but I can talk about how you were.  Bring those memories back to everyone.

You come to me, “how have you been?”  I talk about my rashes and poor job performance.   Quietly you shuffle away.

Things are more quiet now.   Slowly I have been putting the party to sleep.   Slowly you leave.  I return to my perch, pick up a novel, and finally breath.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

1-2-3

The ones like the twos. The twos like the ones. The cleave to each other like silverware stacked in a drawer. 

They think I'm a one. Most do. But I'm a three. I walk past twos and ones all day. I like the ones. But they don't like me. They like the twos. Some twos like me but I don't like them. 

Then one day out of the ocean of ones I found another three. Then I realized we all had been hiding among the ones. The odds were never in my favor but just knowing that in the sandy beaches of ones a few threes hid, made it bare able. I can never tell if someone is a three or a one. But I can hope. 

So which number are you?