Question Man

Actual person I know.

In his black leather vest and studded, biker hat.

Wanting to know each and every this and that.

The only man I ever knew who wore a tie over a plaid, flannel shirt.

Demanding to know all the details and everyone's dirt.

Pigeon-toed Jerome was well known around the city.

Never seeking anyone's sympathy or pity.

Living his life like a sort of modern-day Tom Sawyer.

Would have made a fine trial lawyer.

Fond of asking a loaded question.

Followed by a plethora more in rapid fire succession.

His mere presence like pulling a thread on a sweater.

Unraveling facts; the lengthier the better.

Over and over like a broken record.

Beating you into submission with his dull, wondering horde.

Everyday the same thing.

An overflowing bag of repetitive inquiries he would bring.

"Why are they knocking down that building on the corner?", he demanded to know.

"Why must it go?"

"What's it's value; how much dough?"

"It used to have a basement; why are they filling it in?"

He queried and asked with a big, stupid grin.

"What do you think they'll build in its place?"

Cross-examining like an attorney on a case.

Hanging around with is senior cronies.

Cutting to the chase and exposing phonies.

Forever asking because he thinks he can.

I affectionately dubbed him the ...

...  question man ...

Author's Note

"The man who asks a question is a fool for a minute, the man who does not ask is a fool for life." - Confucius

“Nature puts no question and answers none which we mortals ask. She has long ago taken her resolution.” - Thoreau