No one really wants to be here
There’s a density in the air
All the shirts. Swaying in the inebriation.
All falling over themselves
In thought balloons we say it all
Much more than all we said
Was it?
“Don’t do that!”
“It’s her birthday”
I had lines of frustration and eighteen cigarettes in my pocket
Choirs interfered with and surrounded the young
They lapped it up
Never felt cheated at all
You pressed against the wall
Watching white patterns dance into a fall
I, in all my ungentlemanly fury
Barely glanced for a beat
My glass half empty
You pressed against the wall
Someone shouted something about someone; startled
The buzzards, the buzzards, the innards
You pressed against the wall
I don’t really know you
I should change that
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