Vignettes

These people,
(their petty little vignettes)
they sicken me...

 

I don’t know their story,
But I know their lines,
too goddamn well.

 

They have the same look,
each one of them.
They want something…
 

“What?”

 

I see them, I hear them…
and I know; the next word…
the next exchange…

It tires me.

It tires me to know;
how pedantic,
how predictable,
how practical.

 

For all the others
It’s just a conversation
For me
It’s a sentence.