Lines Written After a Party in New York

It isn’t sarcasm or sadness but the feeling
of having been left to die in the middle
of a rooftop filled with one’s attractive friends.
They look at me and I try to look at them.
My eyes remain fixed on the side of my head.
My tongue is a fist submerged in ice.
I try to make my way back to the surface
to bleat but I cannot. My eyes are glassy
& probing & panicky &