Party of One
July 17 2022
I am not a party animal.
I am not happy
drink in hand
face flushed
swaying woozily,
dispensing inanities
I'm sure will impress,
rambling endlessly on.
Not happy
exchanging pleasantries
about sports and weather.
Not happy
stuck hearing stories
from terrible bores
and lame dad jokes;
my eyes
furtively scanning the place
for better company.
Not happy
trapped in an overheated room,
bad music blasting
unwilling to dance.
Which I can't, anyway.
Forget about neck ties
and shoes that pinch,
defrosted canapés
the dinner I skipped.
No, I am a solitary creature
who emerges at night
in the quiet cool of dark.
Who moves through the world
cautiously circumspect,
acutely aware
it's dangerous out there.
Who takes small furtive steps
and keeps to the underbrush,
careful
for what lurks in the shadows
hovers overhead;
an ambush predator
ready to attack,
or at best, an observer
keeping careful track.
Who prefers home
to novelty,
and a few close friends
to a Babel of strangers.
Who says little
but has a rich inner life.
A party of one
in a comfortable chair;
chill jazz
playing in the background,
the light turned low
and my thoughts to myself.
Content enough
with a dog to cuddle
curled-up in my lap,
her soulful eyes
looking into mine
happily wagging her tail.
A heartfelt poem for all the introverts and dog lovers out there🙃.
The only untrue part is “says little”. I may be an introvert, but I'm still a big talker and not at all shy. Not to mention that it's more likely baseball than jazz.
The truly unfortunate part is my tendency to over-vigilance (although in that stanza I must confess to getting a little carried away by my clever little rhymes, so it sounds more like to paranoia than mere self-consciousness), as well as my acute sensitivity to things like light and sound and smell.
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