me, me, me

the conversations tire me

the inertia of the day to day

we did this then

then we did that

once I got close to…

& it goes on

& i’m keeping myself busy


by not talking in the same vein

sure I got stories

the days we did

but I hear the patterns

in my speeches

the themes of my talk

& how sometimes

how I aspire to affect the chat

by switching the conversation

to that which is familiar to me

my strengths

funny stories

epics of yesterday

adventures had

so instead I sit schtum

waiting for peace

when it comes to me

they too

are playing their strengths

their best hands

these are their funny anecdotes

are switching the discussions

to their shining lights


I listen to what they are trying to say

not the words

but who they want me

to think

the who of how they are

what is important to them

their lives


& I get bored again

the tired repartee

recycled banter

tired tropes

all become a noise

just more virtue signalling

in a world where be

must take third place

behind me, me, me


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