The Party

When he talked about the party

He would start with the gravel in the driveway

When you talk about her, I feel

As if I've been in her myself

That I'm you, I'm her, and the table on which

The roses died in direct sunlight

You have made a profession out of friendship

And you are only loyal to men

To men whose wives you don't find attractive

Or don't find you attractive

Your hair used to be long and brown

Comfort upon your back

Now that he's touched you, he's turned to ashes

You're ashamed of yourself