Part Six

Was it weeks or months or forgive me
It couldn't have been years
Certainly it couldn't have been hours

But the flipping of his hands
The truncated stream of words
I must ask you... could you tell me

Don't worry it's not what you think it is
She couldn't think there was any shape to his spirit
What was the motivation
They weren't all just being nice

Perhaps they needed something... anything
To drop their jaws and hang their thoughts upon
He said nothing....

It couldn't be just personality
But there it was
The spectacle of stolen time
I suppose... what else....

Moping and groping through the day
With nothing but morbid remembrances
Here was a personality
Something to consider

He put forth words like conflagrations of enigma
But of course they were held in awe
They were children at the circus

He entertained in the social rooms
She was at his side
And all I could do
Was structure the events into mathematical categories