Author Information
Avely
Avely stood like an antique fixture, bolted to the floor,
and felt the people shoving as they barreled through the door.
Many of their drinks were spilling and dripping to his feet,
but Avely was pleasant and had giant shoes that squeaked.
So he shook from toes the alcohol and went about his way,
hoping just to socialize with some pretty-minded stray.
But many took one look and saw that Avely was he
who didn't have much scratch to give, nor was Avely
a man with such visage that makes a woman coo and cry;
he was just an average guy with a spark stuck in his eye.
So Avely grew lonesome then despite the pulsing crowds,
and thought it best to dance alone while others were around.
Maybe then this Avely would stumble towards another
who saw his charm despite his flaw and turn to his new lover.
But soon enough the crowd grew thin and as the party stuttered,
Avely did perk his ears and heard the words they'd uttered:
"Why's he dancing such a way? Why's he standing close to me?
He isn't cute, he isn't rich - he isn't what a woman needs!"
"Look at him, all run undone, shuffling with tousled hair.
It's like he thinks he's come and gone with all the bourgeoisie despair."
And Avely felt hurt just then, as he bent and sat away from all,
recoiled at the thought of bother just as he did then recall
the times before where those he loved had told him he was not
the good they had been searching for, the sweetness they had sought.
As the clocks did chime and ring and night turned towards the day,
Avely rose from his chair and slumped to slink away.
No one noticed him depart and his seat was quickly filled
by all the raging company that came to sing and swill.
Avely set out for home with eyes locked to the street,
reflecting on the time he'd had while licking at his teeth.
Soon he would come home alone, ignored by every wall,
and the cat would rub along his leg and ask for food by call.
Sat upon the leather he would laugh as kitty mewed,
happy just to be at home and away from all the cruel
and judging, lovely, beauty-eyed, handy social maids
who have no time to weather him or march in his parade.
Avely then took to screens and keys and twitching fingers
to chase away the liquored ghost that persistently did linger.
The cat took ground on window sill and kept his company,
while Avely ignored the world and fogged his glass and speech.
After time and many rounds and pitches in the Bishop,
Avely did find his bed, and a cushion he could worship.
