‘Tony’: a portrait poem

Sometimes he smokes
Always he fidgets
Full of relentless kindness
and energy, pulsing,
stuttering through him
muscles twitching
like his speech,
too excited to move at a reasonable pace,
tripping over himself
lips constantly parting as if to speak,
flustered little inhalations
at least two or three before
he finally speaks to me
and by then I am captivated
as if I could have been anything else before.

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