someone’s
strange footsteps
followed time
is what he has
an abundance of—time
spent
curled over a
book
so many wonder
what is written
how many wonder
why
and what he
meant
how many would
even ask
everyone given
the chance
he is sitting
writing hoping
someone has a
chance to stop by
and offer a
conversation
he had plenty
up under the hat
where it won’t
fit anyone else
for the reason
that he has too much
thought going
on to continue
on alone some
sort of outlet is needed
suddenly even
the waitress and bus boy
become
potential conversations
how many who
pour the coffee
would actually
be interested
if they weren’t
pouring the coffee
he passes the
time for them
he’s a set of
listening ears
that doesn’t
know
enough about
them to pass
any judgment
and he wouldn’t anyway
they might
never know
he is just one
of their regulars
they become his
inspiration
and they don’t
even know
some could
probably be friends
but they will
get new jobs
and move on—then
he will be
alone again…
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