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Talker I'll be quiet and pretend to care while you reminisce on days of yore I'll quote the Raven, "Nevermore" I've listened to your diatribe the darkest days that you describe Slowly I become withdrawn and try to stifle back my yawn Like water you flow on and on through the night until the dawn to the point you slowly creep I keep listening but I need to sleep 'Ore my eyes a haze like glass yet quiet like a solemn mass I stay so as not to offend However dull, you're still my friend Writer's Commentary for Talker: A one off. I think I wrote this poem in about 20 minutes one night after listening to an insufferable someone I know drone on and on about their hideously boring life. They were a good friend of mine, party because of their insipidness, but mostly because they were a good listener. I would talk for hours about my mind-numbing day and they would listen intently, never betraying their disinterest. In fact I would not find it the least bit surprising to learn that they felt exactly the same way about me, but hey— it's my book
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