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Dinner Party
Say unto thee, persistently,
aloof beyond your own remorse,
so far removed from all daily briefs,
the locals thought you long deceased.
What rings true, sayeth but you
from bottom of well at pit of the soul.
Have you been gone in seeking the right?
Justice or knowledge or skills of a kind?
You hadn't, you didn't; you've been far away,
but nowhere of sorts lack letters to send!
And where are the sheets that you'd rented out?
Where is my bleeding, screaming familiar?
Your brazen, rhetorical nonsense is fault -
you're biding your time and rolling both eyes.
My spirits will drain and I'll sway just to tarry,
numb at the thought, it may be you that I'd marry.
But we've since donned our masks and set about calling,
ignoring each nudge or bumping at 'bows.
Social by matter or pique of the taste,
feigning the manners of our household grace.
Say we of the few, remarkable truly
and still now they judge and can't understand.
The folly of wits, aside scorn from the shrewd,
is that you're always seeing the world in the nude.
