The Coffee Shop

She walks into a cafe
Groggy from yesterday
Smiles at the waiter
Can I have a cappafretta

While she sits at a table
Spying on other people
Quietly she exhales
Thinking thank God
I don't have a fucking job

Caffeine Jidders the smell of pain thinner
She leaves without tipping
Pursuing her identity
Clarity finds her in the most peculiar of ways

In the most peculiar way
In the most peculiar way



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