to a girl at a party

The words so carefree, floating from
your lips, didn't match
the sounds.
I didn't catch all the
consonants and vowels,
couldn't piece it all together.
The few minutes- not even,
must have been a few seconds-
that we spent in that kitchen,
talking about
something
that went over my head,
seemed endless.
And I preferred it above
all else.
It was art,
and it was dance-
you and your movements.
I was out of place,
but never felt
so comfortable.
I leaned in closer,
toward you, not
to intrude,
but the balance of
beauty vs. me,
truth and honesty vs. myself-
a battlefield for the damned-
the chaos of it all
was the support this drunken body need
to be held by
that night.
And I would have preferred it
no other way.

Reviews

[Kelly A. Brown]

Your work is very good....I feel an essence of Bukowski? I wish I could write as truthfully, but sometimes get trapped by word usage and such. You have a good balance between poetic word use and honesty. Great job!

[Yu Yu]

I really liked how this poem has a "stream of conscious" thing going on. I also really liked the silence behind the poem, like how the author is just waiting and observing -- the dumbfounded observer. I especially liked the way you described 'beauty' without using that word, and how you're fascinated by someone without saying it. Was that your intention?