Calculated Cocktails


Cocktail party cornered

Collar starched and stiff

Drink half-full in one hand

Abstinence belied midriff

Brown stains on his teeth and nails

Sweat pouring from his brow

Surrounded by the products

Of success from past and now.

The nut bowls long been emptied

French dip on his tie

Beyond weak jokes and then some

With one last chuckled lie

Religion, political parties,

The secretary’s style,

All points of conversation

Sprinkled with pensive guile

Gauged humphs, rakish guffaws

Sneers and snively hot-airs blow

We must be most agreeable,

The Boss is here, you know.

Stale, gray cloud, familiar thick

The air hung just waist-high

Room-sized miniature of Downtown

A 5 o’clock rush-hour sky;


Another aimless cocktail fest

With just the town’s invited best

Only the names change…

The faces are the same.

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