Party Time Poem by James Mills

Some secret in the music
led the way.
Once in, no bashfulness, no
awkward, stumbled steps.
Easing amongst the throng
the stanger's tongue spoke
on weighty things with eloquence
and dreadful sense.
They listened.
He droned on.

Did the music dull-
or conversation pall?
New light shone in the night.
There came a tune the
company adored more.
They shifted, like a herd
seeking other words.
some nuance, some special thoughts
but it was more of the same-
a looping spool cackling the same old,
dear old dreadful dross.
They traipsed from room to room and
door to door
until they found themselves -
outside.
Outsiders.