PARTY O' ONE

i was born a perfect stranger
though it makes no sense
to be made for solitude
when the girls in the shortest skirts
always want a party
and the more the merrier
and friends congregate
like gulls competing for a
morsel of tenderness
and, goddamn,
we all want some tenderness

but i was born with gills
for life on the bottom of the ocean --
that man who brings a book to a party
and finds his place near the coats by the door
and is always ready for the short ride home