Flitting from this

Flittering like an antsy-hummingbird,
He could never manage to stand still.
Especially when you had
Anything important to tell him.
But his smile, that cheeky smile,
Let you know
He was listening. Nodding,
He said he loved the way the words
Bounced off of him
And into the dark alleyways,
Leaking into the nothingness there.
But I knew he always
Understood.

It wasn't just the words
That kept him
Dancing, tapping his toes
and his fingers and
anything anywhere.
Indecisive, I knew where he got it from
I could read him better than anyone
(Maybe I was always so conceited,
Just vain to think I knew him the best)
He never liked to stay with the same people,
The same place too long.
The scenery got boring after a while, he said.
Nothing could keep him entertained
Long enough.

You could see it in the others,
The way they didn't understand him,
And explained his mannerisms away
As laziness.
I laughed the secret into the night,
When I knew no one would hear me,
Where I knew no one would find it.
The constellations weaved his story into their patchwork,
Told the tale during cold winter,
Like we tell tales around the fire.
But on earth,
He was simply the misunderstood
Man, flitting from this
To that.
Never holding still for long.