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.
Post a Comment