We went to Zabar’s earlier and bought
Brie
caviar
Carr’s crackers—
what Dad would’ve bought himself.
We host a party.
As requested.
But now, “celebrating” with all these people,
my friends smoking in the stairwell,
his friends playing the piano, drinking,
the world wobbles beneath me.
All I can think to do
is lie on his side
of my parents’ bed.
That night:
I dream Dad is dancing,
like he can hear our music,
under a spinning disco ball,
and in his own way
he keeps the time.