Poem By Lawrence S. Pertillar

Who is it that lives just to hear,
The gossip.
Who is it that rushes everywhere,
Prepared with pen and pad.
To take notes quick and fast.
Then to ask, "Slow down.
Repeat what you said.
I ain't too long got out of bed."

Even in their dreams people seem to gossip.
Then awaken everyday.
Wanting more to be a part of it.

Fascinated by it.
Craved until it dominates.
And dedicated many are.
Much more to gossip.
Than their spouses,
Claimed to be soul mates.

For many it's an appetizer.
Appreciated more than a meal.
For many it keeps them awake.
Until dawn breaks.
Wondering if some gossip was missed.
For many it doesn't matter,
How stale that gossip is.
It's gossip to hear it.
And better if whispered,
Into attentive ears.

Even in their dreams people seem,
To crave for gossip.
Even in the midnight hour,
They can not sleep.
Wanting more of it to devour.
And if that gossip is controversial,
At 3am they will call a friend.
Just to be sure they've heard the latest.
Of who did what.
Where and when.

Who is this?
Do you know what time it is?
This better be important.
No way.
How come you didn't call me earlier.
You didn't want to wake me up?
But you felt guilty?
And you heard this when?
Why am I shouting?
I don't have time for this.
Call me back.
In about 20 minutes.
I should be finished.
Say what?
That ain't none of your business."

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