Unsorted
Karaoke Night
The music’s too loud— country in the wrong key.
I stumble to my seat, wondering how strong were those edibles they gave me.
I shake a stranger’s hand before realizing what I’ve agreed to. Just being polite—not agreeing to ritual.
A drink to calm my nerves. A double, though I have to drive. I drink it anyway; I have nerves to hide.
The sadness in my eyes gives way to tears, as off-pitch cowboys howl in my ears.
Outside, the cannabis greets me— the smell of a warm stranger. Asking, allowing, puffing, passing.
Suddenly I’m spinning against Earth’s orbit. Inside, someone says my name from the speakers.
Not wanting to offend—again— but not wanting to sing, I walk to the stage, flabbergasted by fate.
I flip through the songs, in search of quick release. My hand shakes as the mic finds me. I breathe, surrender.
My friend got me stoned, and now I’m a karaoke singer.