We sit, one couch cushion apart;
details of our lives
lay in heaps at our feet.
Two days’ time is not enough
to rub through the polite veneer
on our conversation.
We are witty,
but our laughter sounds thin:
ice cubes clinking in a cocktail glass.
We stay on the periphery
This is for the sorely missed G-man and his FF55 where folks offer 55 words of their choice. Check it out!