They're just not right when:
you’re sitting across from them at dinner,
packed in like sardines
and they're talking talking talking and you can’t,
(for the life of you),
stop paying attention to the conversation
that’s happening at the table next to you.
Surely love is more (interesting) than, say,
two twenty-five-year-old-boys talking
about booze, baseball and babes
over spicy coconut chicken.
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