standing amidst traffic,
cars on each side,
the wind spins me around.
surrounded yet alone,
vulnerable and overwhelmed,
I move cautiously to the curb.
watching from a distance,
perspective altered,
I sit, feet in the gutter,
waiting.
This is a poem about becoming overstimulated when in the midst of a robust conversation with many participants.
Typically, I will arrive at an event full of energy and talk openly with the host and others with whom I feel safe. Once the event begins to grow, I tend to migrate to a corner where I take up residence for the remainder of the evening, having become overwhelmed by the vigorous conversations happening around the room.
~ elr
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