Regarding the Party

Did I get inopportunely blitzed?

Slip from the room too soon?

My cowboy boots dripped

two brown spots on your stair.

Best case my flannel seemed daring.

Or you pretended not to care.

We tried each other on,

but when your brainfog ate my legs,

I returned to the rooftop for your friends.

Their talk veered irreverent, a freaky chorus of preference.

They ate knee-to-knee on the shag rug

what they called a layer cake of woes.

They burned an incense labeled money.

I sat with a lone salamander on the stoop,

practiced my Mona Lisa in a puddle.

Someone asked where you were;

I said gone. That I’d left you

looking up epistemology online.

Despite a certain lack of well-timed yawns,

in my truth-studded jacket

I might yet survive.