Tables and chairs, mostly empty

stood centred in the street

when I came to the corner

the party furnishings foregathered

on guard beyond the barricades

erected with crude hand-writ warning signs

announcing celebration, barring cars

Some celebrants already in the space

Mugs and goblets raised in neighbour hands

shiny bottles, a few bowls here and there

All looking bright, warm, quite convivial

beneath the peachy late day sun

Balloons, even, just a few, wistful

half aloft, a danger-tape pale yellow

alerting any passers-by

that gaiety was going on, or would be

The neighbour father host soon spotted me

and asked if I'd be joining them

Bit shocked to hear myself say yes

yes, would be there right away.

Went home, collected wine, a glass,

the taco chips, a wooden bowl

placed all inside a shoulder bag

and made this decade's drab début

on social scene, seated at once

by neighbour host in a nice sunlit chair

Party in a bag, one guest remarked

fair comment, no doubt about it

as I unpacked my simple wares

onto a tippy table there.

Despite my sundry party-going fears

no tears ensued, though there were some close calls

especially when questioned close

on how and why I was alone

inside blue house at far end of the street

Struggled, faltered for a moment

then, aided by first glass of wine

gave up, said I was a widow

did not say more — the pressing question

(like other things, like life, like hope)

quite quickly vanished, just . . . went away

Party chat was mostly . . . of the time

much boasting on what would have been

in former days, lacklustre goings on:

air travels to dull destinations

but deemed delightful now

because . . . emergency row! seats there

where one is extra far from everyone

and 'they' don't try to serve you anything

or interact from takeoff unto landing

so, highly recommended

And holidaying — pre-sterilized whole house b&b

gleeful guarantee of zero contact there with anyone

Was just so great! the beaming man and wife

Repeated, one by one, and then in unison.

So great to get away!

Always so great to get away . . .

thought I'd done fairly well

got away with it

got through the party night alone

even circulated, changed chairs

talked to different couples

though the rosé went swiftly to my head

my fault, I hadn't eaten food

(and when at last I, dizzy, went back home

discovered that I'd left new milk

on kitchen counter to get warm and go bad

when I'd rushed in and opened up the fridge

took out that purpose-purchased

strangely potent début party wine)

***