Third Party Poem by Jim Young

Leave the too-loud music at the party.
Conversations just out of earshot.
Motion and emotion stir
hot in the air.

Outside, winter cooling to cold.
Step out, a long way home.
Flowing in thought
into the lake of night.

Close screw tight eyes.
All is dark.
Sigh.
Open up to the stars.

Floating no hands and feet,
just a heavy heart.
Same thought over and over,
forgotten over and over.

Darkness flows under the bridge
and is lost in the shadow.
The edge of the world it seems.
Step through.

Same old way,
same old thoughts.
My pals noise the party,
talking to the girls.

The girls add to the noise,
talking to the boys.
The motion pulsates.
The music recycles.

Darkness as quiet and deep
as the party music is loud and bright.
The world is listening walking alongside.
He knows.

Now up hill,
around the corner,
straight on,
autopilot.

How
is
it?
He cannot even get the question straight.

Answer! You echoing cobblestones,
you tunnel wet walls.
Silence.
Post-partum blues.

I'll go back and ask.
For a black velvet drink,
on a black velvet night,
at a bright black party.

Next week
another party.
More party people.
Take another noisy, lousy, think drink.

Who would want to be a teenager?