Poem - Party

 *Party**

My parents insisted on dropping me off at a friends house

A nice house on the other side of town

J. didn’t have to invite me

He was the closest I could call a friend from the early days

Back when it was almost impossible

To make friends amongst

A whole set of peers that didn’t look 

Kindly on someone that stood back

Staying back 

Was what parents warned their kids back then

When they failed grades

Or didn’t listen

I was branded with that early on

Always made aware by the snickers of the class that continued to move forward

And all the shorter kids I was now attached to

He was my friend despite all that shit

My first official party

It would be a night of debauchery I had only heard about

In movies.

Before I get ahead of myself,

It was mild in comparison to the ruckus house party scene in weird science.

And may have just been another Friday night in the lives of that social circle.

But watching a stoner walk through the kitchen carrying a bong was fantastic

I shared my first bottle of tequila with a pal named Jimmy

A quintessential stoner type 

Long hair, tie dye and the kind of don’t give a fuck attitude I wanted myself

He called the bottle of sprite we swigged gulps of,

a chaser

We went back and forth

The dead worm in the bottle silently swishing this way and that at the bottom

I’d like to think I swallowed the worm

As it would be something totally fucked up I’d do once I realized it could get a chuckle out of Jimmy 

But most likely Jimmy would’ve taken that worm like a champ

The door bell would ring throughout the night

Jocks would enter and retreat to a side room to get high

I’d catch their side eyed glances as they filtered through

J. was liked by many circles

I’d eventually stand guard at the door when J. tried to keep some folks out

I guess my size and age came in handy.

Everything was kind of exciting and a blur.

With no cell phone in those days

Parents rarely showed up late to pick up their kids from strange houses

So J. and I exited to the bathroom for some mouthwash to disguise the drinking 

I gulped mine down to the exasperated look in J.’s face

I’m a fuck up what should I say

I left without any fanfare

Pretty happy about my one chance at my peers seeing me in a different light

Until the next school day

In class 

One of the not so kind or friendly assholes leaned closed to me and whispered 

I heard you threw up

With a glint in his eye

I knew I had not gained nor would I ever gain social currency with this lot

Years later I’d run into Jimmy

His hair cut short

Now a parent 

Working a few jobs

Trying to make things work with his

old lady

Gone was the don’t give a fuck 

Replaced with the oh shit responsibilities of life

It felt like months

But perhaps a few years later

I received word that he suddenly passed

The memories of that night probably long forgotten in his mind

Still held weight with me

So much that I promised to myself that I’d be there at his wake

Despite the potential reunion with said 

assholes

I’d eventually run into a mutual connection (not an asshole but a complex person who had dealt plenty with said assholes) outside the wake

she’d tell me about some crazy night Jimmy bottomed out a car in the Freetown state forest. Too late to abandon the broke down vehicle they decided to stay overnight.

The good ole didn’t give a fuck Jimmy is how I like to remember him.

Sometimes there is no chaser.