The meeting

The sounds of half a dozen clusters —
lulled tones
punctuated
with a raucous laugh
a fork clattering to the floor
the hushed and slightly silver tones
of the connected,
the gracious,
the sibilence of shmoozers
accustomed to the give and take
of Manhattan conversations.

It has a rhythm
(there’s that trilling giggle;
quiet — then the throaty laugh).
Yes and thank you
and over and over again:

Of course.

But what is so certain about
life that it is
of course?
I missed that day
that lesson
that book
and I cannot seem to muster
the grace
to balance styrofoam in my hands
as though it were
fine
bone
china.

Life is like bone china isn’t it C?…Very precarious and very easily broken. We need to protect the ones we love at all costs. Love and hugs to you. Bren

your exit lines are always very good.

*hands on hips, mouth open* Are you saying that I am whining hmmmmmm?? *crinkles her eyebrows and pouts her lips* me no whine. Ok yes I am acting like a kid… humor me… I’m gonna be a quarter of a century old in 9 nine days *runs away before she gets killed for that one* heheeee :p I love youuuu! Hidden voice

I like this one.. reminds me of how out of place I feel when there is no sawdust on the floor. Well done! (hmmm… how ’bout, Ode to a Paper Plate?)