When I was going through the
initial stages of menopause,
I used to wonder, with great
confusion, that those around me
failed to react at the sudden onset
of truly unbearable heat - I seemed
to be the only one looking for
its inexplicably-afflicting source.
Now, years later, I find myself
puzzled by the growing awareness
and no little irritation, that people
around me have taken to a kind of
mumbling discourse, muffling their
voices, dulling their words, really
speaking to themselves, not me. How
am I then expected to respond?
Sunday, October 9, 2011
...What?
Labels:
Poetry
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