Inconversant (a poem)

Traffic at night (Image: Eastimages)

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


Image: ID 8174003 © Eastimages | Dreamstime.com

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