Me, myself, I

Me, Myself, I

The party swings on
Voices clink like china
and garlic bread wafts across the room
on a wave of tinkling laughter

The girl in the red dress flirts
with the spike haired, hollow cheeked bus driver
While the fat man tells a joke
the air tinged blue with his effusive charm
His audience scream the sycophant's laugh

Then perched high astride a chrome bar stool
the blond bomb-shell holds court
A bird of paradise
in skin tight black and flaxen curls
Admirers gather like circling amoebas
Ready to engulf her brittle frame

Meanwhile, I skulk in the festive outskirts
blending nicely into the shadow zone
Well hidden behind the vodka bottles
Checking out the pizza
with a studious air As if it mattered
what I said or did!
Dressed as usual in the wrong clothes
and last year's hair style

I am the faceless, nameless one
Part of the background
a swirling, seething void that slips
and slinks between the perspiring ravers
Behind the erudite who flash their witty
repartee like sweeping blades
Between the garrulous drunks in the garden
The gluttons in the kitchen
For sure my friend, you won't remember me
Tomorrow