The Trees, the bees, the leaves and me.

 

 

04-19-98

 

 The patio is crowded with people and chairs, while around us, over the crown of the house, a miracle occurs, the bare brown limbs of the trees begin to show green. Only I seem to take notice, the rest shift their chairs and stair at each other, clearly bored.

 The host has not yet come and no one can say when he will come, creating an uglier than usual mood in these people, who seem uncertain as to whether they will celebrate the man when he arrives, or lynch him.

 Some guests manage to slip away for a time, sniffing white powder from silver spoons in the bathroom, their moods very little improved as a result. Some suck on joints, the marijuana smoke rising up in a steady stream into the trees. But no one outside our gathering notices that either.

 No one makes a move to leave, playing this social game out until the very end no matter how miserable it makes them. They must score their points before they go home.

 Some are so stoned at this point they stumble from person to person sticking their noses in each person's face to enquire as to who he or she is and where they came from and what they might be doing here, a repeat performance of behavior I see in the clubs all the time, lonely people searching out other lonely people to share their misery with, so pathetic and sad, I wonder how I can stand to be around them, knowing that I can't stand it for much longer, me, preferring the wider world few of them notice, the trees, the bees, the leaves, and me...