Standing there listening to you
was like being attacked by a mosquito.
Your words kept coming, bugging me,
with no fresh breeze to keep you away,
your too many biting, “I... I ... I’s”
Standing there avoiding your eyes,
hoping you would fly away like the waitress
with the hors d’oeuvres. I don’t want
to nibble on your tiny tooth picked comments.
I just want to be here and enjoy the party.
© Andy Costello, Reflections, 2009
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