Damon Hubbs

Abigail’s Party

At Abigail’s party
Farrah says she’s one hundred percent 
committed to romance. 
I had a crush on a French bartender 
who never read Houellebecq, god 
we were bored to tears. Do you remember
newspapers, she says. I mutter something 
about wearing my best shirt to the Prado 
to see Goya’s Black Paintings
and she lifts her glass 
and lists the number of ways 
the world is a mystery

                                  take Abigail’s party 

For instance —we’re in a hallway 
pink as a vulva, and Joan 
saw a UFO over the Unadilla drive-in 
on Friday. Laura is dead. The dog sleeps 
at Paul’s feet. John and Lise fight 
with cudgels, then apologize to Chloe 
for not having a car. Henry joined the circus 
says Bret. There’s a fair young man in the kitchen
clumsily lipsticked. Has anyone seen Abigail?
Albert no longer has the sparkle 
in his eye. Nothing happened 
particularly, and the nightcap crowd 
can’t be cut from the wall. You’re wearing 
your best shirt again, and that’s enough.