I Wonder

There are those that live for parties, and noise all nascar and halftime. Laughter that splits the face wide open and spills onto anyone near. I've never been them but I like to keep them within view. I like to watch them, observe them and wonder what makes them tick.
I'm a watcher. A studier. I don't usually get all the details of a conversation but I notice what others miss. The twitch and crooked smile, and the hand gestures that are just a bit too exuberant. I see people in abstract. Beyond what they wish to reveal.
So many pieces to so many puzzles jumbled by movements in rhyme.

Her steps, just a bit too quick
her skirt just a bit too high
certainly an effort to conceal
by exposure
that which she doesn't like.

with lips welded to the way
and eyes full of warning
she parts the sweated sea
but I wonder...

He straightens his tie and crooks his smile
having been told by phony repairmen
how well it all plays.
a master of games and deals delivered
he jets to success on air filled wheels
and never trips on the cracks
but I wonder..

She leans in to lock his gaze
with small nibbles and fork extended
he feigns deep interest
secretly brushing the crumbs from his lap
and a second date seems imminent, a kiss contracted.
But I wonder...

The boy hits his homer
and high fives the home crowd
as the princess in the stands
squeals her delight
knowing she'll wear his ring someday
but I wonder...

They slather and slobber
and rhodes scholar her dreams
as grandpas beam and cousins scowl.
it all comes so easy for her
this monogrammed journey
but I wonder...

is the life of the party
life to himself
does the long legged beauty
sleep peaceful dreams
will the second date survive
the slipped gas and broccoli'd teeth

can sweet deals trophied in board rooms
campaign his lost soul?
she so eager for a ring
will it flatter her nose,
in a silly effort to prove and disprove

when by it she's pulled?

If what is displayed
on country club linen
is all of perfect.
and if Susies and Bobbies
parfait perfect dress

Then I wonder
who cleans the mess?

hospitals filled with pain to the brim
large acned girls who never will swim
in the tide of life's sweet perfume and cherry cologne
young boys who miss while mean people hiss
to his clumsy swing and his sweaty fist
and tears fill pillows in nights so alone

The world never allows us to see
the beauty queen sick over filthy toilet bowls
hair matted and ugly
or smell the bathroom
when pampered dukes depart
only the fitted gowns and pressed tuxes
and whitened teeth
but I wonder...

~Rick