Small Talk

Around the dining room, the guests make small talk. The talk of some is so small, it is quark-sized. Some talk easily. Two or three flirt. A few examine gesture’s blueprint in the kitchen. Snippets mimic augmented fourths. Pitch echoes reinforcement, denial, and abatement. There are declamations in bedrooms, consults on the back patio. A handful venture into dark spaces. Many embrace. Talk furrows in breast bones. A tête-à-tête evokes recurring dreams. A latecomer swallows “account” and “split” and “reduce.” Another gets an earful from a stranger’s imaginary friend. The ones listening make escape plans. The rest filch stories with impunity, cheeks hot with fury/lust. All hold signs between parted fingers and lips, hearts and minds aflame. The mischief-makers overstay their welcome, and a game of chicken erupts. Nouns topple, followed by adverbs, adjectives, and –

Verbs, bloodied and gloating, kill as usual, and cartwheel out the door. The baffled revelers pause for their words to come back to them, to tell them what to do.