Talking to Colorful People
colorful people walk right up and talk
to me as if I could
talk to them in the way they would want
me to; as if I would
have some question have some answer
opinion, prediction, conviction
slice of current events, trivia, gossip,
joke.
they always ask me how I am, who, why, where
and tell me about things that are only true
in their lifetimes, sometimes only yesterday.
"I don't know", I often respond.
past their eyes I'm thinking about
the cracks in the sidewalk, the people with
concrete morals, hardened old men once again
their infantile selves, toy guns, last night's
shooting, other colorful people's insignificance
or my own, lost at sea, confused with
peanuts or profit. they walk away
from me sooner or later discouraged
I walk to the bar right up to the most
colorful girl, right up and talk
to her as if she could
talk to me in the way I would want
her to; as if she would.
I make the same mistakes as they do,
and then some.
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