I entered the room
of sweat and moving bodies
and expressionless faces.
I was surrounded by
the heat, yet coldness
of the place.
The beer,
the whiskey, wine
that flowed so freely
were just beginning
to contort the blank
and lifeless faces.
But, softly, quietly
the air around
crept into my soul.
I looked
up and I looked down.
I saw not anything
but moving colors
and darkness
darkness, darkness.
Oh, my love.
I tried to touch you
tried, tried.
You heard not anything
but drunken echoes
and high pitched laughs
that came from deadened faces.
I stopped.
I stopped on noiseless toes
and peered into a room
of faces.
Of faces bored and dead.
Of faces looking
everywhere but face to face.
I smelled the cigarettes
from anxious hands.
Hands that touched,
that felt girls’ breasts
without feeling anything,
anything at all.
I listened.
I heard the music
begin to swell and beat
and come alive.
I saw dead bodies
start to dance
to fast beat
rhythm swing
and throw their hips
and exhale smoke.
And all the while
bodies hot with fire and sweat,
but faces bored and dead.
Faces that looked not at you
and not at me
and not face to face.
Faces that are lies and
lied to you and
lied to me.
O, my love, do you prefer
a room of high pitched
laughs and lies to eyes
that tell you only truth?
Lynn Katz
class of 1970
likely written fall, 1966
at the first fraternity party I went to at Phi Epsilon Pi
