Work Party – a poem

The existence of the crowd around me as I resist the loudness and sound. My endocrine

glands leak panic, my face glitters and is frantic, and my flesh displays outward pleasure, manic

“Pleased to see you, it’s been too long!” – I air-kiss and grasp arms and wish myself away

as I stay, and my talk is small and empty and so is theirs, my feet hurt and my drink is empty

Aghast, disabled, lonely in the crush, as bodies all round me rush to great and meet and cry out.

My smile comes from a place inside and I must get out or at the least slide myself to the edges

into the darkness full of ghosts, were I can contemplate my strategy, where we are silent and waiting to be gone

Back pressed to the wall, hidden in the shadows with others, watching them ebb – “I love your dress!

What are you drinking?” – fixed smiles all the while planning to exit, I am too fragile to stay

The door is open and I am not slow, I make a move, no one is in the way and I and I slip away to freedom

Work Party – a poem

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