Storytelling

Certain people
have stories
about nights
they couldn’t sleep
for the wind whistling
in the crabbed trees
outside their childhood
and how the sound
masked the steps
of the bad parent
coming up the stairs

They tell them
every chance they get
assuming
the rest of us
are condemned sailors
and this is our part to play
in their lives

One of them
is bending my ear
almost double right now
with the weight of
that long ago inflicted
still acute pain

and I’m chafing
at the telling because
I’ve got my own
long rehearsed story
queued up and ready to go

and there doesn’t seem to be
an opening for it here

We’ve all been there I know

Don’t you hate how
that weight
hanging from your neck
gets heavier with
their every word