Potluck

I want to lounge on this couch.
Spread out long, rest my head back on the cushions.
Avoid the crowd around the dining room table.

I want to have a real conversation.
I want to hear what is in your heart.
The surface doesn’t matter.
There is too much surface area here.
Too much of the inconsequential.
Too many global details.

I can not take in so much and so little.
And so, I find the comfortable couch.
I slouch and wait for a small conversation.
I wait to hear the beating of a heart.