i lost two dollars on a conversation
and in my darkest moments i feel
i will never get it back

side of my eye was on a voluptuous ass crack
of an overweight man awkwardly choking a shoelace
as his wife impatiently looked out into the abyss

i had to take a piss
but the coffee in my hand and the machine of discourse
was pushing us along the edge of an ever expanding universe

i started with hello, my idea not hers,
questioning the purpose of chatter
as the pang of existential numbness crawled through the jungle of a sweating armpit

the days are murdered
by the flapping of the butterfly wings
and the joy of brief conversation