Chatter
I was standing at a party, alone.
All around people chattered away.
About the news, or a sports game.
About someone else’s lofty achievements.
No one came to chat with me.
I asked if anyone knew I wrote a song.
I wrote a song about flowers and sunshine.
No one noticed.
They chattered away about something else.
I asked if anyone knew I gave money.
I gave money to a homeless person on the street.
No one noticed.
They chattered away about someone else.
I asked if anyone knew about my uncle.
My uncle who beat me senseless a few times.
Everyone listened to me.
But no one actually chatted with me.
I asked if anyone knew I cooked well.
I cooked fish filets for my friends often.
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No one noticed.
They chattered away about something else.
I asked if anyone knew about the beer.
The beer I hid and drowned myself in.
Everyone listened to me.
But no one actually chatted with me.
I asked if anyone knew I painted.
I painted balloons in a sky blue frame.
No one noticed.
They chattered away about someone else.
I asked if anyone knew about my health.
I am sick. I am old.
Everyone listened to me.
But no one actually chatted with me.
I died.
I died at a party suddenly.
Everyone noticed.
Everyone listened.
They chattered away about me,
Over my dead body.
And still no one came to chat with me.
