It's more about me....edit 1.0 todd

[tectak]

It's entertaining, but much too conversational..rambling
I thought a lot of the words added no value. Crossed out below. Upsets the 'flow' in a few places, but can be addressed by rephrasing.

edit 1.0

When we stopped talking about our kids we grew up a whole lot;
about then was when we started reminiscing...not easy when you can't recall. .. too conversational
Mostly I forget about me , I guess because I never saw myself  back then;  .... the 'more about you' line next up makes the extra explanation redundant
that’s why I value old friends. They remember more about you than you do.
‘Course, it’s a two-way thing… like when Johnny fell off the bowling alley roof
I can see him, white as milk. He had a bad cut right in his gut....bleeding bad. ... 'white as milk' is nice. don't need 2x 'bad's
Circular. Landed on a piece of pipe. Fell twenty feet. Could have killed himself.
Yeah. We all remembered that... except Johnny. Or  was it Bob?
Bob died last year…but yep, I think it was Bob…nobody argues anymore.
 
Yeah…Bob died last year. He had it coming, we all saw that. It was in his face.
His face changed and we all knew. Kind of sad-eyed, laughed  too late at jokes…
only a second or so, but it was a sign. You know, like a plant in a pot
when it’s losing  strength and you don’t know why. You can feed it, give it water,
you can talk to it…hell, we talked to Bob and made sure he drank enough…
but the edges just turned brown anyways. He died last year. They said it was…
what was it…just old age? How the hell does that kill a man? I mean, we’re all old. 
I asked Dan if he knew any more than we did. Dan said he'd been a good neighbour .. too conversational
but he'd gotten angry a lot of the time, Bob that is. Yep…he was angry a lot.
 
We’re talking about anger and age and memory…it’s what we do these days.
Sometimes I think that I’m looking a little brown around the edges and I get angry;
inside, I mean…you get angry inside and that’s what makes your leaves droop.
We tell each other we’re fine, yep…I’m good…how about you? Been anywhere?
I can see it, though; and if I can see it in them they sure as hell can see it in me.
It’s not the same as a tree, you know, in Autumn, when you expect it.
When Dan sits down at my table and sighs, I look at him and he is no tree…
the death signs are there…like a plant that’s been poisoned at the roots.
I don’t know if I will be next. I can ask a friend for an opinion. They know more than I do ...
...about me.    
 
tectak 2017
original

When we stopped talking about our kids we grew up a whole lot.
Thing is, we started reminiscing instead…it was easier when you  weren’t sure.
You forget your own  things, mostly because you never see yourself in your past;
that’s when you value old friends. They remember more about you than you do.
‘Course, it’s a two-way thing… like when Johnny fell off the bowling alley roof…
I can see him as clear as day. He had a bad cut right in his gut.
Circular. Landed on a piece of pipe. Fell twenty feet. Could have killed him
Yeah. We all remembered that... but whoa, was it Johnny or  was it Bob?
Bob died last year…but yep, I think it was Bob…who’s arguing?
 
Yeah…Bob died last year. He had it coming, we all said that. It was his face.
His face changed and we all knew. Kind of sad-eyed, laughed  too late at jokes…
only a second or so, but it was a sign. You know, like a plant in a pot
when it’s losing  strength and you don’t know why. You can feed it, give it water,
you can talk to it…hell, we talked to Bob and made sure he drank enough…
but the edges just turned brown anyways. He died last year. They said it was…
they said it was…just old age. How does that kill a man? I mean, we’re old , too.
I asked Dan if he knew any more than we did. Dan said he'd been a good neighbour
but he'd gotten angry a lot of the time, Bob that is. Yep…he was angry a lot.
 
We’re talking about anger and age and memory…it’s what we do these days.
Sometimes I feel that I’m getting a little brown around the edges…I get angry.
Inside, I mean…you get angry inside and that’s what makes your leaves droop.
We all tell each other we’re fine, yep…I’m good…how about you? Been anywhere?
I can see it, though; and if I can see it in them they sure as hell can see it in me.
It’s not the same as a tree, you know, in Autumn, when you expect it.
When Harry sits down at my table and sighs, I look at him and he is no tree…
the death signs are there…like a plant that’s been poisoned at the roots.
I don’t know if I will be next. I can ask a friend for an opinion. They know more than I do
...about me.    
 
tectak 2017

Hi Achebe,
 thanks for giving me an alternative read. It is, of course, conversational. It is positively meant to be. If I could have made it moreso I would have done...but...and it is always a big BUT...conversational pieces are always peppered with spaces that together make one of two things occur. It either turns in to a hole or a whole. I think you think hole and I think whole...that's poetry, I guess.
Nonetheless, I eat all crit and I feel that if you feel that there is surplus in this, I will start pruning. I warn myself often when the shears come out... sometimes it is just one slip and you cut off a bit that might have born fruit.
This piece has had many changes already but I cannot deny that you have a point. Expect an edit before I die.
Best,
tectak