Surrounded
circle-fashion
by friends long-past
-maybe overdue-
at a glowing table
nestled deep in a white bar.
Frothing like a cauldron,
bubbles and pockets of the past
our past, I guess
erupting over the table
each bursting
upon encountering the *****
of my lack of attention.
I float grimly along
skating hidden incandescent
watching passively as my cloud is drained
upon understanding
that these people,
these friends of old,
notice, understand, and do not care
about my lack of interest.