Alone At A Social Gathering

Some stranger leaves me. Soon I'll be alone.
Which one will choose me when this one is gone?
I look for eyes I know. Each stranger's face
Appals me, knocks me back to memories:
Which one will choose me when this one is gone?
I hated nights when I was five, I'd shun
The changing surfaces of sheets and socks,
Calling their wrinkles monsters out of books,
Dragons and pterodactyls, octopi,
And names the family refused to say.
Old adolescent knows his younger half,
Silent when only talking is relief.
As gossip's chessmen stumble around the gin
To use the mind's blind eye for their spittoon!
"The gifts of God must be too numberless,
"Too good to notice and too close to please."

by John King-Farlow

Comments (1)

Question to the poet: Was this a memory of your childhood as the son of Hazel King-Farlow? Your capture of the thoughts one might have while standing in a crowded room at a cocktail party was, to me, nostalgic and reminiscent. If you, John King-Farlow, are the one to read this, I need to tell you I have in my possession a hand-written letter from your Mother, Hazel, to my deceased ex-husband. She wrote it on May 19,1948 after a visit to Minneapolis, MN. It is on pretty flower-bordered stationery and is in perfect condition. I found it among his possessions after he passed away. Please let me know if this letter would be of interest to you. Sincerely, Elizabeth S. Brown email: