Nine people walk into a bar,
all of different suits and different lives.
All with different problems and different eyes.
They see the world differently but have thought the same
and are now together bound in such tight a frame
of mind or of time most dear,
but yet they see each other clear.
They’d order a drink but the bar is nonexistent.
They met on the net and are physically distant.
“A pleasant morning” greets the aspiring teacher.
“Morning it is” replies the swimmer.
Such subtle pleasantries, part of each day
and each looks for something fun to say.
“It’s early, too early” The nurse complains.
“But what matters time?” The banker exclaims.
“Ah, in there, is something agreeable” says the gov’t employee
“but some aren’t made for mornings, like him and me”
The computer wiz had spoke up
Busy with work and thesis but all caught up
In these idle conversations with such strange friends.
weird in aspects but who do not pretend
to be people they’re not, though the medium allow it.
This might be why they all get along swimmingly.
All this the chemist and psychologist see.
Forming words to induce a bit of glee
And when the responses come,
There’s no longer anyone that’s mum.
Oh, before I might forget
The ninth person, the linguist has just come online
Backreading all the past exchanged lines
Be careful not get an elbow to the spine.