I arrived at the correct address at the correct appointed hour,
A man with a beer and a plan that lasted about half a shower,
The room was at full operational conversation capacity,
And I stood at the margin with a slowly filling audacity.
I found a painting on the wall and gave it my attention,
A considered and prolonged examination of its dimension,
Then I found the snack table, which was clearly the correct move,
A man with a purpose and a chip has found his functional groove.
The party where I knew no one, I attended it in full,
I worked the room like a professional at a careful pull,
I found three people and we talked about a mutual thing,
The party where I knew no one turned out to be interesting.
A woman approached me by the bookshelf with a question about a title,
I had not read it but I faked it at a convincingly vital
Level of engagement that sustained us through a minute and a half,
At which point we found the actual shared interest to draft.
Her husband appeared and he and I talked about a sport,
A sport I follow at a lower level than he thought,
But the enthusiasm gap was close enough to bridge,
And we held the conversation at a manageable ridge.
By the end of the evening I had made four human contacts,
Exchanged three numbers of unclear actual follow-up facts,
And said goodbye to a host I had not previously met,
Who seemed genuinely pleased that I had come and yet.
I drove home and decompressed in the quiet of the car,
The effort of the social from the proximate and far,
And thought: that was not so bad, it was actually fine,
And I probably will not go to the next one at this time.