Gossip is hard to resist, but this poem challenges our willingness to slander our “friends” with a thousand tiny cuts.
Gossipers on the corner
Fill their lips with the latest lament,
With tongues brimming
Yet never sinning against themselves.
So eloquently they speak of others
In the city’s gutters,
Instinctively passing over mirrors
As they pillage and contaminate
The reputations of those most hated.
A scandalous whisper floats unaided.
Despite being loathed as taboo,
Nearly everyone flirts with the idea of “Who Saw Who.”
Perhaps they too, have been victimized
At once, also lamented and despised,
Yet once they reached the street corner
Forgot what was wise,
By not shutting their ears to these novelty spies.
Why preach, when all can participate in idle ways?
In truth, we all speak ill
Directed at our neighbor for a momentary thrill.
It’s a game. It’s a joke.
Well, isn’t it anyway?
A bit of innocent fun to waste away the day.
Frederick S. Blackmon, USA