Response to the next table over

I think I feel my stomach turn
to hear you from our seats;
but I cannot turn off my ears
to block your hurtful speech.

I wonder, have you any clue
just how much I despise
that vacuous, self-serving look
that comes into your eyes

whenever you begin to speak?
I doubt you understand
more than, at best, the rare odd word;
your tastes all run to bland.

You are my test of tolerance;
I struggle to contain
the pure disgust I feel each time
your mouth transmits your brain.

The bile you spew, the mindless drool
you parrot makes me ill;
I shudder to imagine
the size of your karma bill.

And yet, I cannot hate you;
I cannot take that course.
It costs me too much to maintain
dislike without remorse.

10 APR 2013

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