In my dreams I am invited
to an almost endless cycle
of parties where I always fit in
and share attention as I give it.
It’s different in my day life, where
I draw only the occasional invitation,
and then usually as the plus one,
and I am expert at finding corners,
where I can be observer, not
observed, and need not worry
about finding a bon mot, that sounds
Inane the moment it is spoken.
My dream parties seem every
bit as real as all those others, but
I am not obligated to bring a bottle, have
a better time, and save a fortune on wine.
I received the invitation today, but I won’t be attending. I’m not inclined to RSVP, for that will only drive home the fact that I couldn’t afford to attend. They have to know this, and if they don’t, well… That really is their problem. My mother said you should always RSVP, yes or no, but she’s been dead two years, never said she’d attend anything again. And anyway I still believe the rule doesn’t apply to any invitation addressed to Current Resident
The house is suddenly empty
standing alone on a stark barren lot.
The old drapes are drawn tight
and little light enters, but
there is no one there to see it.
Every once in a while there is a rattle,
a creaking, and you expect someone to appear
in one of the now dark windows,
the door to be thrown open, an invitation
to enter or at least a wave, life
asserting itself within, but it will not happen.
You know the house cannot stand long
unattended, that it will, too soon, fall away
leaving only a hole to mark its presence.