Conversations

Invisible children that fill the empty space
Between us, in a cold, gloomy pub
I start sketching first, sometimes,
And then everybody helps me dress them up.

And slowly, the attention shifts from me,
To these delightful invisible people
They have their own identity, created
In collaboration with a lot of  collectively inebriated,
Hence more flexible minds

Sometimes, it is the child of the present
Born out of a snide remark
Sometimes, it is the baby of future
Emerging from an impossible dream
Sometimes, it is the clingy fat kid
That refuses to let go of your foot
As you try to go to the next room
The child of the past, how typical!

You try to be a proud parent
Driving it in the right direction, as
It jumps up and down on the social
Trampoline that the group creates..
Sometimes, you try to influence others' kids
Sometimes, you just don't want to believe
That you created it, as it goes out of control
Right in front of your eyes!

Whatever the outcome, my friends
You have to  know that I am not interested
As much, in the attention I get
As I am in dressing up my conversations
Using your ideas.

So don't blame me for taking all the attention.
Because,
If I don't talk,
No one has a good time.