"Questions: Parties" 1973: poetry by Michael F. Nyiri

I hear melodious strains of music
While watching dances to break the box.
A young girl touches her lover's cheek
And maestros drink to their health.
A rock and roll oldie fills the
smoke-consumed cubicle
We smell a melange of odors
Music mellows throngs one moment
Then rips everyone our of their senses again.

While dreams crumple up like yesterday's newspaper
A type of music fills the room
Any type of music
Music and people spell a party

Glass-filled imagery sitting on nonexistant
ledges walking through a maze of legs
Notice all the girls who sit with four-
mixed-drinks talking to the walls

I sense with all my soul a person over there
She talks with me a while then I remember
that tomorrow it will all be over and 
I may not see her again...
When you're under, everyone is so happy
And everyone is so eager to be friendly
But how will she interpret my advances
Do I realize that behind that pretty
face is a living human being

Forty seven people are having a good time
And while we try like hell
We know we're only giving a good show
Because I know I'm wond'ring what
Each look she gives is hiding
What are her secrets?
Will I ever know?

Every party attended holds a couple dozen
You don't know - 
And if she's among them you contemplate
Whether or not you can really get close.

Will she be like last time?
Will I evern know?

What will she be thinking
Does she know I'd just like to be with her
I'll bet she thinks 
"He's just giving me a line"
Is what we say the truth
Do we believe in truth at all like that
which people learn in Sunday School at seven

If my Vdub is gassed up I cold take her
away from all these faces in this cubicle
And away alone I could know her - 
But does she want to be known
Or is she a face at a party
And will I ever know?