Birthday party. 20. Home again.
It used to feel so natural this way,
we all sat on the floor
slumping against couches and walls
complaining of what poor posture
the youth of our day have.
..."whole generation of humpbacks"...
But I was nearly sick with the difference,
that pale pressure mounting behind my eyes.
..."oh, it's been so long"...
So uncharacteristically uncomfortable
because I don't wear blue jeans anymore
or khakis or t-shirts.
..."I should be so happy"...
No one caught the should
as I try to imitate that lost Southern twang.
And I looked level into each eye as I spoke,
as searchingly as possible without seeming maniacal,
for a glimmer of recognition
..."oh, you don't even know"...
They don't.
Sure Dave knows I like cats
if only becuase he despises them
a trait gifted from a real throwback of a father.
..."take you out back and"...
And April know my proclivity for pearls,
though not the why o the symbolism.
And the best even knows I write a bit
and where to find me.
..."I got your deep thoughts right here"...
Each parceled out to the memories of old friends.
A habit in one mind, a talent in another;
and a half dozen eccentricities to contend with.
..."not far from the"...
..."you've got a lot to"...
..."I don't even want to"...
And I suppose when I die
they'll all sit around
on the floor
in their precious blue jeans
to compare notes
and refute,
confer knowledge,
distill truth.
Perhaps they'll draw between them
a semblence of what once was.
..."and there was that one time that"...
But wasn't there one
who somehow knew without me having told
the full measure of my mind
evven in a moment of desperation?
Who knew every part of me
except the feel of my skin
and the true color of my eyes?
..."oh, tell me you don't"...
Tell me you don't sit on the floor
in blue jeans.
Tell me to my face
even if it be an unfelt lie,
even if it is just a foolish birthday wish.

01/22/2002

Posted on 01/22/2002
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