Never one to throw a party for myself I never know who to invite or how to go about it, making the mistake once on my birthday
Guests sing and candles are blown cake cutting is usually involved too, that much I get
Where I was raised though agrarian roots peeking etiquette dictates the celebration
of multi-day feasts by bountiful farmers in sharing the success of their harvests with others in the village
Communitarian compassion in action — giving when you have more to those with less
Which is how, even now a commemoration of the smallest slice of good fortune as guest of honor, you’re expected to pay for it all
A practice, of course, not readily propagated in other parts of the world
Ten friends — some old, the rest new a mix of locals and expats
huddled around a table deep in debate grouchy Cold War generals
in a brick-walled dining room that might as well be a bunker reluctantly negotiating
for a safe middle ground in the win-less back-and-forth of to split or not to split the bill
A temporary détente when lights dimmed we’re all a little off-key and out of sync, watching bubbles flatten and balloons sink
before the stand-off resumed behind ancient battle lines of East and West — and I, caught, right in between
Edward Gunawanis the author of two chapbooks, The Way Back (Start a Riot! Prize winner, Foglifter Press) and Press Play (Sweet Lit). Other publications include Triquarerly, Aquifer, and Intimate Strangers anthology (Signal 8). A queer Indonesian-born Chinese immigrant, he now resides on Ohlone land in Oakland, CA.