Page 127 of The Black Flamingo
best friend is actually gay.
I tell Daisy, “I’m glad you called,
we should speak again soon,
maybe meet up over Christmas.”
I don’t tell her I’m lonely.
I just want to get off the phone.
It’s making it worse.
I mostly keep to myself but for Halloween
my flatmates are having a party.
I’ve not told them it’s my birthday but I join in.
We bring autumn leaves into our flat.
We make the most typical choices
of costume: a witch, a vampire, a werewolf.
I’m a ghost.
My costume is a white sheet
with two holes cut out for my eyes.
I guess it’s more of a disguise.
No one who comes to the party knows
that it’s my birthday. Most bring
their own booze and ask me who
I know here. I tell them I live here.
They say, “Great party!” and offer me
one of their beers or a swig from
whatever spirit they are clutching.
I like being around people this way.
Somewhere I feel safe. I can retreat
to my room if I want to at any time.
After seven beers, I retreat to my room
and sit on my bed.
I imagine removing my white
