Sometimes I wonder if the loud people want to be heard.  A strange form of oral voyeurism that gratifies a well-sauced ego.  I mean, I know I shouldn’t be listening but aren’t they a little disappointed when I’m actually not?  Before I interject in a conversation these days I at least wait until the other person gets to respond.  Half the time they say the same thing I would.  Other half the time they change the subject which is good counterspell to all ignorant comments.  My faith in humanity slowly rebuilds. 

The conversation on my left is between two people that have no idea what real want is.  Real sorrow, real need.  The heart-wrenching feeling of knowing the last time you look in someone’s eyes.  The burden of truth in mediocrity.  Singing John Lennon songs while commuting to a white collar job.  Thinking about the future, dwelling on the past.  No way to sort out the worthwhile from the those wiling their worth away.  All we want is for someone to give us a job.  We were told to expect at least that much.  Saying that out loud, I can’t believe I fell for it.