The Last Party

Ray's on helium, all of us, 

dancing Rays on helium,

it's the end of something,

Ray knows it's coming,

he'll never let it end.

He'll have his arms all around us

on his farm in Vermont,

us leaping Rays 

with Ray, himself, on helium and... port (?)

Though for now

the birthday boy, 

then his right hand

on a sedan, the dj silenced,

confused onlookers witness a 

birthday song interpellated 

come on 

who's with me

come on.

The last 11 years have been 

the wind howling and me,

quietly tracing a figure on the doorframe

of Capri

with the tiny red straw 

that kept the ice spinning

in fury in Jameson

just watching that sedan float above

and beyond me,

towards the street outside

lifted by Rays, forever,

gleeful Rays.