The Life and Death of the
Party
By: Rodolfo Perez
I’m the party,
And I know I should feel
happy.
Many people would kill to
be in such a seat like this,
An old oak dinner chair
serves as an unofficial throne.
And it gives me a perfect
view of the spectacle.
People are all around me,
and even though I invited most of them,
I don’t know their names,
I can’t recognize their
faces,
I used to.
I used to be able to pick
out every imperfection in them,
The way their smiles
would bounce off the walls,
The way their dance
movements would be slightly off-beat
And that made them
perfect,
But their faces are now
mere shadows overlaid by the pounding beam light.
Its straight, white,
bright flashes keep coming back to my home,
To my memory,
Very much like the people
who are moving to the dancing lights.
I used to find substance
in these events.
The loud music,
The louder people.
But now I feel empty.
My home is filled with
people, and music,
But I feel more alone
than ever.
P.E.N.T.C.I.
No comments:
Post a Comment