An inordinate time in coffee shops

It’s all too clear he

spends too much of his

precious rhyme in

coffee shop here

or there or where 

and

when; and 

then and now and if 

and

how; and so 

he sows a

future 

and so he sews a

future and so 

he sees a

future; 

and 

yet still he sees so little, and

so very little

is clear to him that even

cloudy Sicilian

lemon-

aid is easier to

peer through 

glancingly

than glancingly he is able to

peer at his strife.

And then, glancing

again, he sees

a limb of curious philosophy,

refracted by industrial 

plastic and visibly naked,

though hard-

ly visible to that eye he 

owns

as 

naked and lonely as

lonely may see, and be

and be hurt 

and sight and right.

And so, amidst the

cloudy out there, a kinda 

sun

begins to shine:

and he wonders if one

day life may 

choose to 

dine and wine and

rhyme again, in

places 

unlike 

the coffee 

shops he escapes 

to,

in 

or-

d[err]

to be that one with 

himself he cannot now be

with

two.

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