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at the end of the world, we held a dinner party
really, it was nothing much
just us, and our kin, and our kith—
and even our servants too

exchanging small talk by the spouting fountain
and some gossip here and there

mother endlessly harped on …
          papa brazenly announced …
                    Bassem was hoping we could finally …
          actually …
come to think of it …

Isn’t that funny?

I mean, naturally …

there wasn’t much to talk about
          and it was unpleasant when I think about it

but the hors d’oeuvre, as always, were exquisite
and the champagne, as always, was excellent

                    the orchestra was a tad much, though
          we definitely could have done without the cancan dancers
                    and, in retrospect,
it may have been a mistake to fire that cannon

Though, all in all, I must say, it was a rather successful affair.

J.D. Harlock is a Syrian Palestinian Lebanese writer and editor from Beirut. In addition to his posts as editor-at-large at Wasifiri Magazine and poetry editor at Solarpunk Magazine, his writing has been featured in Strange Horizons, Star*Line, The Future Fire, Mithila, and the SFWA Blog. You can always find him on Twitter and Instagram @JD_Harlock.
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