the party

by horace p sternwall

illuatrated by konrad kraus

your friends are at the party, the ones you’ve known for years they’ve shared your joys and triumphs, laughter and tears they see you coming, and turn on the charm and welcome you with open mouths and clutching arms there’s plenty of potato chips, and plenty of booze and they can’t wait to tell you the news who fell out with who, and who fell down the stairs and who in sad circumstances was caught unawares the fox is in the henhouse, the train has left the station life is a chronicle of degradation and though the shocking chronicle never ends it’s all right, because we are all friends outside the wind begins to howl, the rain begins to patter and everything you hear starts to not matter there’s nothing left to say, and who wants to think? you happily accept another drink you look up and the party’s almost done everybody has had enough fun you notice time has left its nasty traces on all the old familiar faces who are these people anyway, and who are you? they are your companions, tried and true your shoulders sag, your shoes begin to scrape and all you want is to escape outside you are welcomed by the wind and rain it’s over - until duty calls again safe inside your clothes you are nice and warm out of the fog appears a shuffling form she wheels her vehicle along mumbling a sort of little song the cart is filled with plastic bags and adorned with little american flags how fortunate you are to have your locked upholstered car you have your i d, safe and dry and can look authority in the eye you have your friends, your registered name your knowledge of how to play the game no use to cry, no use to moan and yet like her - you are alone