Yeah, there are over a hundred people scattered about the hall.
A man planted here to fill her needs, a woman posed there to fill his needs.
What each needs…
They both need.
Why do they meet, suppose, a marriage of experiences.
Intertwined with verbal abuse.
A match of wits to discover they have none.
A pose, hand-held cigarette.
It’s fickle light reveals scant wrinkles.
Ashes falling down her dress.
Foundation covers her wrinkles.
Plenty of food, mixing mouths, mixing words, mixing
thoughts.
Absolutely, I don’t know what you mean.
What did you say? I don’t really care.
Make an impression, tell it to me again, don’t smile.
There’s food in your teeth.
Drink this.
Evening’s end, I’m through. Can I leave?
Graciously I move towards the door, my exit, to leave quietly.
Oh! Are you leaving already?
Early day tomorrow lots to do – besides, there’s food in my teeth.
(c) 2012 Linda Stone Cohen All Rights Reserved
Remember that no amount of money can purchase grace, wisdom and humility.
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