Bang a Gong

Touchy feely
I abhor,
Because it’s such
A frickin chore,
I’ll shake your hand
And wish you well,
But if you’re dripping tears
I’ll run like hell.

You have some horrid
Illness man?
I’ll listen once
Then propose a ban,
The repeated telling
Of that thing,
It get’s embellished
With each swing.

If you’re shopping
For a hug,
I’ll shake my head
And toss a shrug,
Personal space
Is my barrier,
Unwanted hugs
There’s nothing scarier.

Prolonged goodbyes
That never end,
Next time
Just a postcard, send,
Unless you’re willing
To say, so long
Just turn a way
And bang a gong.

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