The Party (Patti Smith Saves The Manatee)

You arrived at The Party

and went room to room, circle to circle

eager with anticipation of liking and sharing

an evening of informative discourse 

but your search was in vain

and all your comments 

though crafted with the best intent

landed clumsily like heavy stones

and so began 

your frustrating descent into madness

as you made your way through

The Living Room:

chattering guests announcing 

the joys of their new status

or cryptic slanders of their last one:

("some people will NEVER grow up!)

The Hallway:

where people complain 

that they just don't 

make music like this anymore

The Patio:

a review of last night's dinner

at the latest fashionable restaurant 

complete with pictures of dessert

The Den:

home movies of grandchildren and grumpy cats

and fantastic things that will change your life forever

("You won't believe what happens next!")

The Bedroom:

a lively discussion of what women really want:

recipes for butternut squash soup

and 50 Things To Do with Coconut Oil

("#37 will blow you away!")

and suddenly you feel woozy

when you realize this party

is full of faces that seem familiar

but you can't remember their names 

or where you met that friend of a friend of a friend.

Later that evening

you notice folks disclosing

their medical afflictions

complete with photos of gaping wounds

("This was right before 

they wheeled me into surgery . . .")

and a mysterious women in the corner

gathering personal information and telling people

what rock star they were in a former life

("Hey, I got Patti Smith! Yeah!”)

while her sister pleads

for you to sign a petition

that will give the endangered Manatee

a fighting chance

(Won't you please help?)

2:00a.m. 

your head is spinning

when you discover that

the only ones left are drunk in

The Kitchen:

where discussions of great social injustices

create passionate cries for equality and fairness

as the mob plans their protest

against The Corporate Evil

but your clumsy attempts at offering 

a different solution are shouted down

while guests fidget and mumble under their breath

("Well, he's not at ALL like I thought . . .")

and that's when you realize

all the circles are the wrong circles

and no one is really listening

to anyone with something different to say

because you've been dropped off

at the wrong party

there are no cabs 

and it's a long walk home.

The next morning

you sift through your broken rhetoric

trying to remember what you said

that was so wrong and made people so upset

while you empty your pockets

and find recipes for butter nut squash soup

written on the back of a petition 

to Save The Manatees

and your grand daughter's picture--
your only successful contribution 

for the evening

that everyone could agree on.

Ken Owen   Van Niddy Press   November 2014