A cry for help
Sometimes sounds like,
"Hey! How was your day? Tell me everything."
But I am not genuinely concerned about the buffets you ate
Or the guy who complimented you while you were both at the parking lot - not that I mind hearing about your purple dress and his dreamy, deep voice - for a fifth, sixth, eighth time
Not that I mind anything. I am more than fine
Knowing about your old aunt's hellick habit of interfering in your personal life
Her probing questions and your oh so smart turndowns
"That would teach her!" Of course,
I don't mind, I don't mind
As long as it fills my silence
As long as it shuts the madman pinning needles in my mind
Tell me how your day was.