sweaty chaos on the sofa.
rusty chuckles spread like butter
across the faces, each one hotter
than the one that came before

one showed up a sunday golfer
and the next showed up a slut
shadow-ridden boyfriend with a gut
did someone really call her?

these home parties start politely
with one or two sarcastic comments
after the misshaved russians quietly
slip inside with vodka in both hands
what follows i don't recall, but likely
shots are taken, until someone takes a chance