UM, ACTUALLY

Every year since high school I try to discern. 

Is it the party of the year? 

Of my life? 

I’ve seen elements from some nights.

License plates, perfume, cars, water bottles, chains, intense stares, 

white shirts tickled by black markers, thigh high boots, coolers, jello, 

fancy bottle openers, muffled conversations over speakers,

the punchbowl now turned into jungle juice, 

fun looking baby glass cups,wallflowers, 

spontaneous breakdowns, breakups and sudden marriages? 

The stench of some dudes nauseating cologne, the occasional fist fight, 

therapy sessions, sirens, ping pong balls, 

some stuff on the counter that I hope is powdered sugar, brownies,

 dazzling smiles, CDs, non stained sofas and turntables.

We carry worlds with us into someone's space 

in hopes of making epic memories. 

And rarely is it epic.

And other times we carry worlds with us to pump our fists in the air,

 flirt, wear the outfit we refuse to, 

fool around, make friends, learn new games,

treat people like chess pieces for a mere 

solid but measly four hours.

A 6th of a day spent speed dating trying to force what should happen by chance.

After about 3 hours and 59 minutes I conclude.

This is not the party. At least it's not that party.

I think the real party is a surprise. 

A new setting, a different area. 

Random people.

The person you can’t stand.

Life somehow gets better after the party but before you go home. 

A night unplanned that started ordinary and made you

realize you haven't lived until a certain moment. 

Leaving you wondering if you’ll ever catch this again. 

The best part is attempting to go home and getting interrupted. 

The After Party.