He finds himself
He finds himself
Counting interactions
How many words
Have been spoken in one day
Some without reply
Baristas and checkout operators
Seem to feature in the total
With far more regularity than most
Discounting family
There would be almost total silence
From one day to the next
Without talking to himself
He would soon forget
How to form a sentence
Construct meaningful phrases
Convey feeling, empathy
Holding someone’s interest
Has become a forgotten art
He was sure he once had the skill
To capture hearts with words
Of truth and depth
How did that change
With every passing day
Without the need to speak
More than a brief ‘hello’
He finds himself
Wondering what more he could say
Without scaring people off
Sounding deranged
Too needy by half
So much so he tells himself
That he has nothing
Of interest to contribute
He has done it all before
Seen the movie, read the book
He believes he has
Become a champion bore for higher values
As old guys
Are supposed to accept the advantage
Of ‘white male privilege’
Music didn’t change the world
Or if it did not for the better
The revolution
Became a corporation
People still like populist politics
Embrace nationalist ideals
Parochial concerns
And being told by some young thing
You are still ‘hip’ is a sore subject
When your neighbours all have arthritis
No wonder people die alone
It is too easy to stay home
When going out
To meet and greet the new elite
Is replete with
More than a hint of rejection
And a soupcon of embarrassment.