Another Saturday Night With Her Friends

Where the floor meets the wall, She stands in her usual spot, Craving a cigarette, Observing, processing, psycho-analyzing, Another Saturday night with her friends. Their forced civilized exchange of small talk, Boasting, intellectual competitions and back handed compliments Vainly covers the tension of secret love triangles, Unspoken resentments, jealousies, and Bruised egos until the alcohol takes effect and people start going to the bathroom in groups. That is when someone puts on jazz album, And suggests a game which brings out the "realness" in everyone: They tell stories, make confessions, Share moments of tenderness before Declaring war Shattering several expensive wine glasses and Dissolving into fits of hysterical laughter or sobbing Until a fight is taken outside a couple is having sex in the basement, and someone is vomiting in the kitchen waste basket. Except her, Lightly buzzed by some cheap white box wine, She will comfort and offer sage advice to the histrionic and the clueless which they will soon forget or dismiss. Refill the pretzel and chip bowels, Break up a fight between two romantic rivals, Pour countless whiskey shots and shake 20 mean Vodka martinis, Nurse the drunk and clean up the mess in the kitchen. Years from now, these alleged group of friends will Rewrite this night filled with fun and merriment Where the drinks, drugs and conversation flowed, and the fire never died, While she will accurately recall every detail and wonder Why she allowed this group of sparkling, beautiful, broken people To cast her as their resident Gopher Maid Bartender Unpaid therapist Keeper of secrets Enabler… What was her incentive or her reward? Beyond their peripheral acceptance.