The Party Animal #2 by Paul Hellweg

Went to a party last night,
second time in as many years.
Room heavy, sweaty, warm,
jostling, bumping, squeezing through,
“excuse me” the most frequent words,
no place for a wallflower to hide.
Free wine, all you could want, but
ate dinner before, too full to drink,
too depressed to chat,
too self-conscious to flirt.
Wanted to leave immediately,
forced myself to stay an hour,
remembering my therapist’s words,
people unwilling to face their fears
risk living
isolated and withdrawn lives.

But what about those of us
who go out and brave
that bewildering world
other people inhabit, only to find
it’s not for us?

1 comment:

Peter Greene said...

Mmm, dinner.

I hate evenings where there is plenty but no desire! Tense and sour, this failure to devour. Homer always had his poets feed like bastards. I feel for you - a well described social nightmare. Home and its pleasures are best!


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