Table For Ten

The clinking of their glasses, a bright, tinny sound,

like bells ringing far away, not quite here.

My friend, she laughed, her head thrown back and round,

and I just watched, trying to appear

part of it. The stories flew, like darts,

some old, some new, I nodded on cue.

Felt like I was in a room of separate hearts,

beating in time, but none of them quite true

to mine. Or mine to theirs, I guess.

My smile, it felt like plaster, stiff and set.

More alone than if I'd stayed home, I confess.

Just a silent movie, I haven't watched yet.