bad coffee

he knows you can’t see him
through those eyes now
tired and unsettled
ready to go dropping his hat
time and again picking it up
as if it would do any good
the stuff that fills his dreams
the stuff he tries to forget
believe it or not he knows
you cannot see him
with those eyes wide awake
and he sleeps through a silent alarm
and two cars racing
there is a fire burning so bright
and strong as he is burning too
like words on the tongue
he can’t speak he can’t say anything
but he knows you can’t see his words
or maybe would like others to appear
disappear and reappear in eyes
deep like dreams of eternity
whatever that may turn out to be
in a sleep so short like the hairs
on a nearly bald head
he knows you don’t see him
stuck here in the middle
of a sentence taking on the truth
through eyes so tired
awaking maybe meditating
over bad coffee
and three cigarettes…