for maybe an hour
before i begin
to itch
and shuffle my feet.
the first thing i do at
a party is find where the exits
are.
kitchen, front door,
back door,
a basement window
that i could easily slip
out of and disappear into
the night.
i sweat as i mingle.
making awkward small
talk, adjusting my collar.
i'm no fun at things like
this. i want to go home
the second i arrive.
martinis help, but only
so much.
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