life on the other side

there was life on the other

side of the wall (this s/he

knew for sure)…could feel

the bass pounding through,

could hear the laughs &

the loud drunken profanity,

could sense the youth in the

air, the late night abstraction

& immediate gratification

of a weeknight, when responsibility

was of little concern because

“consequence” was a word

that they didn’t care to spell.

 

how s/he came to be on the

side of the wall s/he is on, s/he

can’t even remember---certainly

there had been a time when

s/he had been in their shoes?

certainly there had been a time

when s/he had done without

thinking, when s/he had acted

first & asked questioned (or

answered them) later?

still, the mind was so selective

in these instances & the

concept of “fun” in the past

seemed to fade like the flame

from the dying match s/he

used to light her/his Autumn

scented candles around the

apartment.

 

the life on the other side

made her/him feel uncomfortable

because s/he knew that such

life was all behind her/him &

to confront such a pulse that

acts so honestly naïve, so

seize the day, so aggressive in

its narcissism & lack of

self-awareness, it struck a nerve,

it made her/him shake, it made

her/him pop the pills, it made

her/him wish for

death quietly at night

as the party raged on.