Poetic Purgatory

It’s true you know.

The less time you spend with people the more you come to enjoy it.

So many repeat the same conversations, at the same times, coming each time to the same conclusions, like a broken record player they just get looping back again and again and again.

Never growing beyond what they are or what they once were.

I couldn’t think of a more poetic form of purgatory.

Could you?