Happy Hour

Happy Hour

Buzzing through the busy social sprint
the hh, the ya ya, the finest house wines
resting above the slim stem pinched
by a thumb and a curled index finger.
follow the gestures, the ruby swishes
confined by the crystal rim;

wine party

My acquaintances all love me,
I give them hugs and my smile,
all dummy down for the sake of humor;
our “love” penetrates the air between us
yet, our hearts are hidden; remain untouched.

We share it all right there;
the sounds of happy voices
flux like an open sea.
Pacifying the discontent
from mundane painful silence
where the pearl of our hearts
remain isolated and covered
in that room full of friends
who all become strangers
when at last, we all go home.

The Art of interruption

Urgency builds
waiting in the womb,
first gasping breath
demonstrates the power
of capturing immediate responses;

The very first fix
gets our lungs purged,
we get a bathing, then
immediately following,
soothing comforts
of a breast full of milk.

As with everything in life,
a certain way that works,
does so for a short season —
Our strategies sophisticate;
Baby once again takes the floor
uttering first angelic syllable;

Repetitions of “da, da, dad..,
or ma, ma mm, with cute gestures
drawing celebrated smiles
coupled with chattering
adults answering back
“woo woo’s, lookitdababyyy”–
Baby feels that surge
of power once again.

This continues with the tugging
of clothes, raspberries,
silly dances,
being a good or bad girl or boy,
and the list goes on.
All in the name
of being a center for attention.

We learn to be masters
taking our skills with us
into a world of sage communicators;
We lay camouflaged and stealthy
ready to demonstrate our wits.

Leveraging the wit is found
to be most effective
while speaker speaks
and we yield to the listening
yet, talk thinking is
peripheral behind the white dazzle,
and sub-rosa flirt of cinched lips —
This poise is inadvertently perfected
through years of towel drying
and primping before a mirror.

The yielded silence is a barter,
cloaked behind smiles
and utterings of “uh huh”, or “ya don’t say”

Disciplines of listening gives way
to weakly muttered syllables;
(as if fore-shocks were acceptable
and eruptions could be contained.)

Undefined grunts and blurbs
sporadic and breathy fill fractional
spaces between speaker’s words.

frozen thoughts begin thawing
under warm deceptive expressions
of interest while words silently
assemble, bulging into sentences;

The words line up like race cars
waiting for the vocal pause
of a checkered flag.

Nods pose for interest
as glyphs, with or without serifs,
fill and clog the ears prior to
spilling out; slinking and sliding
into the crease of smile’s edge.
This is where the chewing starts;
rabbity, and clandestine,
as if particles of food
were loosened
between listeners teeth

Subtle jawing motions are peripheral
while one repeats
opening lines
silently beneath breaths,
the head nodding continuous;
Is the meter
of a ticking countdown.

Opportune moments,
where words convert
to first audible burst
is like a swift changing
of lanes in the thick stress
of rush hour traffic-–

new voice wedges hard
and is heard
taking the old speakers floor;

(The power once again surges!)

while old speaker’s voice sputters,
fades, halting in a syrup of discontent.

The stealing of the floor is complete.
The involuntary listener soon
forgives offense
While chewing
on new strategy
demonstrating the insanity
for an art of interruption.

This post is linked with Seedlings In Stone Blog spot.