“The Adagio Begins”
The adagio begins; I am so very old this afternoon.
I drop prescriptions at the pharmacist,
And, while I linger, phatic melodies persist
Perniciously; cornered by exchanges with the clerk. Soon
The neighbourly welcome wears a little thin in me,
And while she might have had me read
The blurb she found in yesterday’s discarded need,
I found myself a little on the run and disinclined to be
The latest in this evening’s causeries, her chance encounter, leisure’s
Fodder in the daily bond, another rerun of the previous day’s events
That even when fresh and in the bloom of youth were set
Ajar in previous matinees. Politely I decline the pleasure
In the “breaking news” edition of the hottest feed of tips
On vitamins, deodorants, and balms to soothe the driest lips. —Once
“Your true traveller finds boredom rather agreeable than painful. It is the symbol of his liberty – his excessive freedom. He accepts his boredom, when it comes, not merely philosophically, but almost with pleasure.”
Aldous Huxley
[1894-1963]
Once 
sometimes, just sometimes, I like to talk but at others I stare and wonder at my almost tears, my misty eyes in response to someone’s words. They must think I’m three sheets to the wind, I vaguely ponder, just sometimes mind, not always.., xPenx
Odd it is how everyday conversation seems to have evaporated into the mere opportunity to vent about whatever is or is not on the menu today. Yes, well, my eyes do not tear up during these exchanges, but I have to put my entire being on “Hold!” in order to mask what is essentially expressed in staring in disbelief as the only rational reaction to what I hear in any given day.