A Prologue to New Acquaintance

Good morrow, stranger—halt—rehearse thy name,
For small-talk is a hydra in a tie.
What hobbies? Weather? (Clouds refuse to frame.)
I sweat in pentameter and try.

Behold my cue cards—topics one to three:
“Do you like trains?” “Preferred prime under ten?”
I smile too hard; my eyebrows disagree—
The punchline trips and falls, then stands again.

Yet when thy laugh arrives, unscripted, kind,
The stage grows wide; the audience is one.
I sheath my facts, let silence lead the mind—
And lo: a friend, by social maths undone.

Note: Even a pedant can put the flashcards down when kindness enters.