1st Cycle + A J Urquidi +
2nd Cycle + Sarah Baker +
3rd Cycle + Nikia Chaney +
YOUR HOUSE PARTY SUCKS BUT YOU'RE HAVING FUN
This house was not built to handle so much vomit.
In fact, this house was built before vomit existed, a pristine era,
the times of pre-four loko and simpler shoes,
of darker hues of blues instead of the sheen of dayglo green.
There aren’t any birds here. Not anymore. This is hallowed ground
of weird lights and computer-manipulated drum fills.
This temporary cathedral built from red solo cups,
this weird eye-contact with some guy in a toga,
this constant movement and shifting body heat,
this cool dance move that I just invented
called “the broken weather vane”.
This is the place where you have chosen to party tonight.
You are not calm. And you’re making sure everyone knows that
because you’re making what I would describe as animal noises.
You have a bicep tattoo and neither of us knows what it means.
Your hair is bad but your attitude is two mountains high-fiving.
You are howling. You are pointing at people sometimes.
Other times your hand is in the shape of a fist,
punching at the air on each downbeat with such ceremonial diligence
that for a moment it’s like your fist is
powering the music, somehow part of its unseen machinery,
instead of just a bass reaction.
You drink beer. You drink more beer. You drink more beer.
I’m not sure what we’re celebrating but I think it’s nothing.
The ping pong ball falls into the cup of beer with a pleasant sound
and the people around the cup react, again and again,
until the police come put us all to bed like parents.
Circle Poetry Journal///Ministry of Obscure Knowledge © 2015