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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