Spectacles of qualified madness;
periods of hysteria broken by silent judgement
and a need to understand; rituals
performed for the sake of consistency,
the maintenance of the status quo.
And this is what I see,
what I’m not supposed to notice.
This enticing chaos
finds me vulnerable – whims and fancies,
those particular particulars that tell me
all about you,
distract me from the content, the point.
You always seem surprised,
like it’s your first time as well.
We’re just getting started:
“It’s a pleasure to meet you.
Excuse me, but what was your name again?”