in defense of the quiet kind

does it mean i'm boring
if i don't talk much when
i don't feel like talking
if i don't bounce off walls
when i'm not drunk
if i don't explode at every moment
and bubble with volubility?

i think excitement
preys on the unexpecting
and stalks them from the
mundane. i see it in the silence
of the quiet, in their bella donna eyes
in the wrinkles of their expression.
i see life behind the quiet,
the buzzing and warbling constant
you cannot always know it
but it is always there,
and this mystery drives
me insane.