The day was not as feared. None
of those we thought would weary us
came to sit anywhere near.
The ones running the show –
they were children the last time
we saw them – kept surprising us
in smart suits and swish dresses.
Before we knew it, their energy
had swept us back towards the walkway
along which waiters came hurrying
with trays of drinks, (most notably
tall glasses of tropical liquids
decorated at their brims
with wheels of strange fruit).
Before we knew it, we were thankful
for any small civility,
no matter how dutiful,
that came our way, and were happy
to say only such things as hardly
needed to be heard – hardly needed
to be true, even if heard – over the great
dumbfounding din of the dance band.
from Smiths Knoll 50