At the reception
You look across the room
With such substantial yearning
Holding two complete convictions
Contradictory
Yet solid in your sense

The first an exaltation
That this bland and humdrum crowd
Has not the wherewithal
To incite your febrile nature
That their vanilla pleasures
Can never rival
Your intoxicating ones

The second
Just as vibrant
Yet unworthy to concede
That in a heart’s tick
You would cheerfully
Disburden yourself
Of your cumbersome uniqueness
If you could leap
Dauntless
Into their clique
And be enveloped
In their safe and soothing shelter