They talk on tables at lunch;
break breads with words at night,
in crowded cafes they bunch
to soundly sip of drink and fights
that are wrestled out by lips,
defending either this or that,
posing to spring their cries and quips
on those who stop or pass.
Then, upon begrudged defeat,
an open mouth will pause, bullied,
and then, to next met ears, entreat
to learn the winning concept fully.
They reflect all voices, then,
grinning, glitter like handless
statuettes of glass men
between light and canvas.
Whether playing back their points in ploy,
or shouting out their argue's sense,
they are so eager to fill the void,
so feared, the sound of silence.
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