It always starts with a simple greeting

A chance encounter, a random meeting.

I’m never that interested in your day.

It’s just a politeness I’m inclined to say.

I’m not after details, I don’t really care.

But my smile is enough to trigger an overshare.

Details of your new kitchen and how much it cost.

The grief of a loved one you have recently lost.

The current state of your grandmother’s wealth.

The medication you’re on for your mental health.

 

Your overdependence on a gin and tonic.

Your daughter’s illness that has now become chronic.

The ingrowing nails on your dad’s toes.

The polyps that you had removed from your nose.

 

How you nearly sliced off your finger with a knife.

The gynaecological surgery performed on your wife.

The devastating infertility of your dear son.

The size of the hernia inside of your mum.

I stare at you with bewildered eyes.

The depth of your stories an uncomfortable surprise.

My attempts to contribute are entirely in vain

I don’t think I’ve even told you my name.