31
i wrote this years ago.
SO THIS IS THE NEW YEAR
one hour to 12. this doesn't feel any special, just like another night save for the fact that we are gathered here to celebrate the new year. six of us sitting around this table. feeling a bit anxious as to what the new year brings, a little sorrowful that the year is ending. drink up, this dessert wine is tasty. this pretty girl beside me is getting closer. she feels good, her arm against mine. wish i could read her mind. wish i could tell what our future would bring. maybe we'd both get drunk and give each other a big slurred confession. maybe not.
thirty minutes to the new year. two are gone, replaced by three. we sit and wait. this unspoken tension is eating away at us. is this how we're going to usher in the year? is this a microcosm of more of what's to come? oh that would suck alright. ah, just focus my attention on this girl. i want to get closer to her but it's probably a bad idea. oh look, they're whispering about us. i don't like this. how does she feel?
ten minutes. the three have left, now there're four of us. i prefer it this way, small and quiet. wonder if they like it too? i probably only like this because of the girl beside me. drink up, get tipsy before the clock strikes 12. the year has really flown by...
ten seconds, the radio has started counting down. our glasses in hand, ready for the big cheer. should i give her a hug?
seven. this seems like a perfectly reasonable time.
four. i want to, she wants to.
two. others are watching.
one. no.
SO THIS IS THE NEW YEAR
one hour to 12. this doesn't feel any special, just like another night save for the fact that we are gathered here to celebrate the new year. six of us sitting around this table. feeling a bit anxious as to what the new year brings, a little sorrowful that the year is ending. drink up, this dessert wine is tasty. this pretty girl beside me is getting closer. she feels good, her arm against mine. wish i could read her mind. wish i could tell what our future would bring. maybe we'd both get drunk and give each other a big slurred confession. maybe not.
thirty minutes to the new year. two are gone, replaced by three. we sit and wait. this unspoken tension is eating away at us. is this how we're going to usher in the year? is this a microcosm of more of what's to come? oh that would suck alright. ah, just focus my attention on this girl. i want to get closer to her but it's probably a bad idea. oh look, they're whispering about us. i don't like this. how does she feel?
ten minutes. the three have left, now there're four of us. i prefer it this way, small and quiet. wonder if they like it too? i probably only like this because of the girl beside me. drink up, get tipsy before the clock strikes 12. the year has really flown by...
ten seconds, the radio has started counting down. our glasses in hand, ready for the big cheer. should i give her a hug?
seven. this seems like a perfectly reasonable time.
four. i want to, she wants to.
two. others are watching.
one. no.
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