You heed the call,
and head on out,
to bar unknown,
with people,
barely known,
for reasons,
not understood.
Not by you,
not at all,
this dance,
doesn't make a lot of sense
to you
does it?
But you go,
the parade of conversations,
some in which
you are your most engaging
charming
funny,
sometimes erudite.
But this weird matrix of people and words,
you can mix it up,
you can dance this dance,
you can be all these things expected of you,
raconteur,
confessor,
confidante,
friend.
You slide through these masks
serpent of response,
where are you?
Where are you?
