December 30 2008

friday

the days goes by like any other
coffee. ketchup. check.
all the forks in shiny lines
flip the switch tie shoelaces smile repeat
long for the night
the hour at which your hips hit the dance floor
walk into the spolights and fog like you own it
in your red shoes moonlight in your hands
a familiar song plays and you smile to yourself
your own secrets

it's the hour when you've had too much to drink
you should go home but you stay out anyway
your heart full and heavy ready to burst at the chorus
your life a mess but you hurry on
ignoring the phone calls and former lovers
who still want to talk
to say how are you, how have you been

you don't talk much lately
bottled up all those stories
the blank walls broken dreams
skipped classes and crumpled cocktail napkins
with anyone's phone number
it's that hour when things blur by
or gain focus depending on the alcohol

tonight it's gin and it puckers your lips
you crunch on the ice cubes like pieces of stars
and the music keeps playing
and the people are laughing
and you catch your reflection and
you are the only one not smiling