My Little Black Book

Commenting

Go, continue to tell me about it,

I'll listen, though I had only met you once, two days ago.

Desperate to make conversation.

How's the weather? Is it cold up there?

Oh boy, what you mist have been through that the only thing you can comment on is the weather.

Come with me, I'm lonely too in this sunlight

Bathing me in my own perspiration and casting shadows onto my nose, my hair, this pen, this page.