by Bernard Reed
Here it is loud
and my birthday.
Tomorrow the attention
will subside
but for now
I am the most important
person in the room.
Soon it will seem like
only yesterday that I belonged
to a grand banquet of mirrors,
candlelight, a fresco on the ceiling,
champagne levitating gorgeous wrists,
an adoration for which
I was righteous to accept.
But for now, a thousand miles away
across the ocean,
the sun is rising and
sardine boats are bumping
against each other.
Bernard Reed is a writer in Chicago.