High Time

Laughter’s ringing through the evening.
The dogs are loose on the dance floor.
I feel like I’ve been here forever
but I guess I’ll stay some more.

All the girls are doing lines
dressed up in evening gowns.
We’re all having such a high time –
it’s so hard to come down.

The actress is telling me her theory
as she fiddles with her glove.
She says no one starts out looking for fame.
It’s only … we’re so hungry for love.

Her chatter is a rapid stream
and I think I’m going to drown.
I should go, I know – it’s high time –
but it’s so hard to come down.

There’s a screen at the heart of the scene
that keeps me from myself.
As if the things I feel are not quite real
and are happening to someone else.

Our host is up on the staircase,
his hair slicked back in a clump.
His sweaty hand holds the banister
and I swear he’s going to jump.

Tears are streaming down his face
but he’s laughing like a clown.
His fate is like mine: caught up in the high time
with no idea how to come down
with no idea how to come down
with no idea how to come down.

Tam Lin