An explanation, not a justification.
A joke too soon mocking the latest rent-a-grief victim,
unnecessary fiddling with cutlery and then, suddenly, blue air.
I can't really explain why I wasn't listening…
maybe it's an old habit? Important stuff is being disclosed,
the whole gamut of emotion, and yet all I can do is say ‘Yeah'
and nod at Pinteresque pauses in our conversation.
If I'm not listening then the explanation can only be self-justification.
Comments about this poem (A Musing by Alexander Hawkins )
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