Sad British Pop Music

I'd like to point out that
it's a nice October night here in Buffalo.
The wind is light. The air is crisp.
I'm walking around outside kicking leaves around.
My family, both immediate and extended,
they're upstairs somewhere as I stand out of view
stealing cigarettes like breath and gold.

Inside, the DJ plays and people dance and flow along
with both the music and the open bar.
As I drift in, I sit down in an empty chair -
any chair, really -
and sift through some old thoughts.
Maybe just to clear my head.
Maybe just to wreck it more.

Today, the day my remaining unwed sister was wed,
has passed me by all too fast.
This entire vacation has, marked by alarm clocks
and itineraries.
Moe's, Boulder, SPoT Coffee, South Wedge and East Ave.
Fittings and rides in the back seat.
A late afternoon drive to Hamilton just for some closure.
An even later drive home with some answers.
Back to the stomping ground.
And all those fights that she'd made
and all those things that she'd say -
Well, I won't be fighting her today.
Only myself.

There is a significant level of uneasiness that I feel
standing last in line at the altar
watching so many people in tears and
feeling that alter self put up that face.
Matt, in front of me,
his legs are shaking because he's still
halfway drunk and
halfway crying and
has been standing for what feels like
halfway through the day.
Regina and Greg hold point
like infantrymen for
Scott and Nicole.

And he is in tears
and she is so beautiful
and I have never seen her so happy
and the two of them,
they give me hope for the rest of the world
which -
I'd like to think -
is a strong statement

(and I'd like to point out that
I will never get used to her being called Niki).

The homily continues and my mind floats
to mere minutes earlier.
Walking my mother down the aisle
as she grabs my arm so hard I swear
I was this close to bleeding.
Still minutes earlier - my grandmother.
She's getting frail. Her cane in my right hand,
she on my left, Grandma walks a lot slower than she did
only months ago.
While it hurts to watch her age in leaps and bounds
it does make me happy to see
how proud she is of us.

From where I'm standing I can't quite make out Kim or Kelly -
too many shoulders in the way.
Somewhere in the fray hides Amy and Devon and Charis

(and I'd like to point out that
spell check is demanding her name is actually "Chairs").

All of them, regardless of whether or not I can see them,
are radiant.
The light that guides us home

(and I'd like to point out that
while someone else probably wrote that
it doesn't make it any less true).
They light the church magnitudes beyond the sun.
It's enough to make me forget that wherever I have gone
the blues run the game

(and I'd like to point out
that nod to Mr. Frank).

But the ceremony is finished now,
and Charis and I head down the aisle last
and I'm fairly sure when she says rather loudly,
"Okay, let's party!"
she did not see my Uncle
standing five feet away
with a camcorder pointed directly at us.

So we're standing outside the church -
the entire wedding party -
and I'm really looking forward to when
my parents leave
so I can smoke a cigarette.
But in the mean time
We're slamming beers and waiting
for the newlyweds to come running out.
This is no different at the steps of the art gallery
or at the beer run stop.

And at last we arrive to the reception.
The food is great.
Everyone is smiling.
My parents' friends keep remarking about how
remarkable I apparently am
and I keep telling my parents
how I'm just good at putting on a face.


But as I sit in that empty chair -
any chair, really -
without really filling it and look through
some old thoughts on my phone.
Devon comes over to me and grabs my hand.
"Come on,"
she says,
"Quit talking to her."
She drags me forward to the dance floor.
"Forget about her,"
she says.

"Okay,"
I think to myself.

"I can't dance,"
I yell.
"Then just jump, like me," she yells back.

"Okay,"
I think to myself.


(and I'd like to point out that
it certainly made me smile a little more
than most would).