I’m still in the corner with my drink
And my eyes are doing dirty things
While my mind is watching idle.
Across the table, she hopes I notice,
But scolds a wandering eye.
I look to the left and realize
The conversation is dryer than my mouth.
My friend is still trying to get a word in edgewise,
But I know there’s no breaking of social barriers
And secret handshakes tonight.
Right on cue, I lean too much against the wall
And the phone falls off the hook.
The noise is a simple tap on the ground,
But I get stared at as if I pissed in the rum.
I put it back on the hook,
But one looks at me and says,
“The cord’s still disconnected.”
That’s probably the only thing the cunt’s said
To me all night,
But I guess everyone’s gotta play a role,
And hers is “bitch.”
Mine isn’t much more complicated;
It’s to write rather than do.
13 strangers and not a thing of importance transacted.
But a place is held for me.