Just, really?

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Part 64 of the 64-part series called "moon photos"

I thought to myself as the guy cut me off:
Just, really?
Under my breath when sauce fell on my cuff:
Just, really?
After the tango, but before the rally:
Just, really?
When I mixed peanut butter with some jelly:
Just, really?
Is there a reason I repeat myself?
Should I keep talking, or should I just shelve
my queries, my complaints, my hopes and my fears?
What would you do, if you had all these years?