A bit rushed I admit. But here it is.
we’ll wax the lyrics
on the banal.
We’ll talk in vane about things we only half know,
Deferring authority on those we don’t.
Yet, we do it anyway.
On the train, in a bar,
In the hairdressers,
on a plane.
Talking but saying nothing.
Musing to deny snoozing.
“Have a holiday planned this year?”
Stock question with a stock answer
“Aye, mebbe. Dunno yet.”
It’s the same every time.
I am Jacks single serving friend.
For hours or sometimes minutes
A face we’ll always forget