People who need people
Are the lucky ones.
If that’s the case
Then in this world
I am the luckiest.
I spend my days at home
With cats as mates;
They don’t talk much.
And talk is what I need,
So badly
I’ll start a conversation
With the yardman, the librarian,
The checker at the store,
The woman next to me in line.
My motivation
For going out
Is not the things; it’s people.
I’ll yank weeds, sell books,
Stare at modern art,
Dine in restless rooms
Just for the people –
People I can chat with
Till their eyes glaze
. Because, sadly,
I’m not sufficient company
For myself.
©2016 John I. Blair, 10/27/2016
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