That Kind Of Day

It’s no use, all the talking.
Talking non-stop, huffing
and puffing, drunk.
Joe got shit done.

You don’t know if he’s listening.
But he was. And had come round with
the black rubber plunger
like it’s no big deal.

Then just like that your faith
in humanity had come back.
You felt like a drunk horse
saying uh-huh, all smiles.

Prompt:

Hey guys, would it be ok if I go dark on you? As if I no longer existed kind of thing. I do feel like it, this kind of retreat, which is really a retreat from humanity. Why? Because why impose one’s self on another person right? Why say or do anything that will say, look at me. I’d rather no one’s looking. I don’t mind if strangers are looking. After all I’m just a pixel, another stranger. I’d just as well be an anonymous person. And after all, I’m not really seeking your attention. I’m really seeking…for God. And I want to know, for myself, that I really do exist. That’s who I am in conversation with, alright. What? Faith, that’s the thing I’m looking for. And Robert Brewer too.

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