The Cocktail Party


They grin and glide around the room

They never tell you what they mean

I cannot begin to presume

What animates the face serene


A smile or a smirk that taunts

An invitation or a dare

Eyes scrutinizing all your faults

With rays that singe and flare and glare


And they’ll have another glass

Something dry, sedate and chic

Don’t count on vino veritas

Lip pursed passions never leak


All commendations qualified

All criticisms compromised

Discernment is always defied

With mincing speech, perfected, prized


And hands that beckon, then wave away

Capricious as a weather vane

A back that longed to dance and sway

Stiffened like an old man’s cane


Copyright, 1997, David Gottfried


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