I turn my head to the side, back arched and realigning.
Moving my ears to hear what new insensitivities they have to offer.
Their lives are full of profit.
Profiting from their action,
profiting from their inaction.
Profit then from the commentary they provide on others action,
as an objective facade treats poorly their humanities egoism.
And cluck still more, relating to themselves how well blended these voices are in unison.
Harmonious and sweet, spending time within their perfect circles.
Friends whose company has grown sturdy in the years past,
and coos childishly at the happy realisation that their life has passed in good company and economic good humor.
I've a wheel I spin in company.
It clucks and makes many strands one.
It coos, and holds my soul in.