The Party Animal

These days I often find myself in a party
With folk who are sexy or mundane or arty;
A few of these people are certainly older,
Though most are much younger and patently bolder.

There’s good food, generally, and plenty of booze;
Palates get duly sated, people tight, tongues loose.
Everybody speaks but no one listens at all,
Like Dylan laments in ‘A Hard Rain’s Gonna Fall’.

There is a great deal of fun, frolic and laughter;
It all changes totally the morning after.
As I wake up my day is already half gone,
My head feels larger than that of a mastodon,

It throbs like the piston on a travel rep’s bike,
Or as if a few kids are inside with a mike.
My throat is drier than the summer Sahara,
I rush to the fridge for lime and lots of warra;

As evening progresses, I begin to regroup,
I pep myself up with a packet of Knorr soup,
I get to feel refreshingly hale and hearty;
Soon I find myself in a similar party!