Gathering of Fools

At a table for four sit five eager fools, each nursing a cup and
Spouting falsified wit and stories that blossom into delightful grandeur.
I sit at the bar, slightly edged to the left of my stool and truly
Have the best of intentions, but boredom and curiosity prevail.
As I acutely study their faces wrinkling with laughter and the
Harmless air of mischief that envelopes the entire scene, I can't help
But wonder if this camaraderie has grown from their childhood days.
Of particular interest at this precise minute, is the recounting of
Lenny's epic trek across the western slope with three quarters of his
Time away from home spent lost and trapped by a clan of fair folk.
Deeply enthralled by the tale of his harrowing escape from certain eternal
Enslavement, I fail to notice the obvious physics of my angled perch above them.
A moment of suspended silence is the response to my fall from grace,
Followed immediately by five sincerely concerned voices and a
Bout of boisterous belly laughs upon my insistence that I am unscathed.
I am hoisted by a set of aging but sturdy hands and Lenny produces a
Handkerchief from his breast pocket to blot away the bourbon on my blouse.
I blush under their scrutiny as I try to rearrange myself, knowing my
Earlier amusement has turned traitorous and exposed my naughty whim.
Ready to curtsy and retreat, I pause mid-pivot as the one called Bear
Yells out to the barkeep and declares there is room for one more.