it's not a 'seeking' advert, it's vital to understanding the poem. This is the story of one of those odd party nights out at someone's house; writing it has left me feeling a little confused, now I think about it.
I hope people like it; I hope it makes some sense to somebody.
A QUESTION OF LOYALTY
He didn't mean to be rude, I'm sure,
just another victim of a few drinks
instead of dinner; bottled food,
turning our stomachs into disco halls,
dancing with the smoke that fills our bodies.
We've learned the secret of eternal youth -
the inert jive, a swirling stillness.
Mellow in a loud, hot sort of way
suited me fine; taking on water
and sinking under glances, you know:
the kind that makes you want to check your fly,
and spend a night discovering the truth
about how many ways two bodies twist.
He wasn't the kind to hold a drink well;
not a sin, not quite, just a door
into thoughts best left without expression -
there are roads, and their are mournings after,
and it's up to you which one means the most.
When your head's in your arms or in your drink,
things can be forgotten, forgiven;
some things. A man's arms are like strangers,
but surprise can make a moment softer
than imagining foretells; joke, laugh,
break yourself away and leave a question.
Your zip's still done up, irony says,
but you've confused your self-respect no end.
I'm sitting in a window at midnight,
counting beer cans and finding too many;
numbering wayward stars under the eaves,
and wishing for an honest thought from each.
Mercutio, heading for the door,
stops to wish his Romeo a stille nacht,
apology and irony at war
with friendship on whatever line we toe.
Through the make or break, I see him turn,
and stop him more for my sake than for his;
I am gracious, but he is more so,
for he takes all that I have to give him -
where those like me would spit without a thought
I give a kiss; a benediction
for a life I stand against and love.
He turns and leaves, a voyager in
Loyalty: too strong a cord for lips.
