“Talk” by Wayne F. Burke

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How come you do not talk
he asks.
I talk, I say; just not to you
because
you are kind of a jackass
and would not understand me

even if I talked for a year, plus
you are kind of dumb.
Why don’t you go and read a book
or two?
Why don’t you go and live a little, get
out of your cocoon;
go get yourself beaten
or else beat someone;
acquire a few scars,
hitchhike through towns strange
to you;
live with animals,
sleep face-down in an alley,
do an overnight or two in jail;
work a shit-job for years;
go without for
a while, and then
maybe
we will talk

if you still want to,
and still can.

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