Things Just Are

Usually
a coffee-shop
book
coffee
bagel, just in case
decent-looking gentlemen reading or
sitting closely with their girlfriends,
Warm middle-aged women conversing
Autumn leaves,
day-off,
Not a cloud in the sky
Type of day works
But not today
Despite all the people,
I’ve got nobody here to really
connectwith

A young man reads his journal
I can see his handwriting from here
I think we’re all looking for something in each other
And not finding it,
too afraid to speak
I’m scared to death of the older man
sitting to my left
And not in a good way like
I’m scared of my boyfriend and the boy
With the journal
Like they might steal my heart

I’m going to leave now
My work here is done,
But it wasn’t any good

At least I wrote a poem

I despise poems about writing poems

But sometimes things aren’t good nor bad,

They just are.

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