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the last conversation

worn out by language
the scribbling ,the jawing
the squawking, the boisterous
bull hockey of words.

The braying and spraying
and pretending to be portraying
the inalienable self-importance
of un-intelligible utterance.

Its a wonder that we comprehend
one another at all.

How often do we spew at
each other instead of conversing with?
These sputterings of air have
no context but more often pretext,
I am beginning to wonder if he'd
get the gist
if I opened his pie-hole wider with
my fist?

Here it comes...
More two-lip-moving-manipulation,
turn on others
making of us boosters of hating
and supplication.
I thought conversations
were interces (intersections),
stops at the
human to human weigh station.

Can't recall the last place
and where
I sat
with a real someone
who listened more than they
where is somebody who cares
about the lost art

Original Copyright of May 1, 2013
All Rights Are Reserved By This Author
recently found and rewrote this today Feb 28, 2014.
Fortunately, for me, I have had
some good conversations since then.
Melissa A. Howells

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