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| my immaturity....writing on a napkin again watching people speak a foreign language that I haven't studied I think it is the language of success or drive or ambition what have you I am looking at their hair, wondering about their childhoods, and sex lives have they lost the ability to cry or laugh at nothing did they ever have it is that what separates me from them the leader looks like a fetus the frenchman has a soft voice and a soft eyes there is a casual cynic who is aging before me he will wonder when it happened that he got old and only I will have noticed I think they are spekaning in tongues I can't even pretend to understand now getting colder the most interesting thing person in the room is the girl setting up snacks now they are trying to laugh but it is impossible for their eyes all I can think is I want a cookie.... | ||