i remember talking

i remember

talking.

those days, those long

nights

when drinking

tonic and gin,

conversing

with one or two, a crowd.

late

into the morning

at times.

discussing things, 

love and death,

the world

at large,

whatever was on our minds.

i remember

moving my lips,

opening my mouth and

letting the words

pour out. my

voice projecting my life.

i remember talking.

it was way before

i began

to write.