Nervous Tension

At a summer party acting amiable but secretly uneasy, almost certain of a misstep and the ever present real possibility of self-character-assassination, I wait for the sun to set in order to follow a star across town and away from here. I've never had a poker face, I always wear what's left of my heart upon my sleeve, I'm ill-disguised in apprehension, I'm always afraid I might compliment a sociopath or a politician and insult a sweet and gentle working girl. Have you ever been in a small circle of friends and a larger circle of her acquaintances? Did she give you advance notice she would declare a momentous decision like to marry you or slit your throat? How does one prepare equally for gratitude or graciousness beneath guillotine skies? I'll have to remember her office building parking lot eyes as I replay the scenes leading to my demise. Treachery, your name is Existence.