Shall I sit out this dance
As the dancers prance
Heedlessly by.
Why
On occasions Can I not join in
With my companions and grin?

The song
Of the throng
Helps me forget
And yet
I am not as other men,
For when
I smile
There is, all the while
Within
The knowledge of this temporary din.

Others see it to
But construe
Me speaking of such a thing
As bad form and bring
The conversation around
To matters less profound.
But, when they are alone
Do they not think on skin and bone?

I can reduce my companions to laughter
With my jokes, but after
Our fun
Is done
Closing time will come.