The mix

-er.


There seems to be


No common

fix-er

And the problem keeps multiplying

As soon as I start writing


My name down


On that sheet.

 

With my friends

Dancing to the beat.

 

I wonder how many hours we have left-

“four”


“three”


“two”

“one”


and then the party’s done.

 

 

Time to go back home,


Time to go home after being left

Alone.


To hold some


Stupid drinks


At least them when


I make my way to the floor


I’m not


Holding drinks anymore.


 

I smile.

Someone odd comes up behind me,

I say “please stop”


But they keep...


Grinding?

 

Slowly see my friends unwinding.

How are boys so one track minded?

 

I push away, I say a word.

I drink water,

No one heard.

 

It’s pretty funny


When I get back


How I hate the dancing floor,           

 

How I want to go home.


 

How I wish that boys cared more, shared more,

Instead of the nudes that were on his phone.

 

Though I don’t say much at all,

I remember what he’s done,

 

When people will stop and ask,

I say,

“Sorry, no. I didn’t have fun.”

 

If you have any pride in yourself,

Which I sure hope you do,


Stop grinding on three different boys,

And yes,

I’m looking at you.

 

If you want someone who loves you,

And you want to love them back,

Know this much-


Right now, to him,

You don’t mean jack.

 

You should be independent

In everything you dare.


Get a nice, cool guy,


Who is at least honest

And fair.

 

And don’t come out of the mixer

Expecting to be fully wed


And don’t come out of the mixer

Looking about half dead.

 

This is just some small advice

Next time someone asks,

“Wanna dance?”

 

Look at his personality,

Please,

Before you look in his pants.