The Birthday Party

Jason Tandon

They crowded around me in a room upstairs.

I wanted a shower, but they pressed in—

How do you feel, O great sage?

I had been rewiring the lighting

And smelled the dust on my shirt.

What should we give him?

A punch for every year! A dead arm! A dead leg!

My mother told me years ago

I was too old for celebrating.

Now it made sense, the cake in the fridge

With my name on it,

Soccer players entrenched in a frosting pitch,

The ball on the foot of the striker.

I parted my way to the linen closet.

A couple was bent double on the Rollaway bed—

I thought you two divorced?

It's a party, they shouted, and slammed the door.

I asked the bartender for a stiff drink.

Sorry, sir, beer and wine only.

I hate to ask, he said coughing into his fist,

But could I see some ID?

A remote control car slammed into my shin.

The cake was brought to me on the floor.

I huffed and puffed myself dizzy.

Trick candles, someone screeched, make another wish!

Make as many as you like,

So long as you don't tell a soul

What it was you wished for.