three balloons
poking their
heads
above a fake
wooden wall
ceiling tiles
stained
and ready to
fall
how many times
do I take the
time
to notice all
the imperfections
of this place
hanging lonely
with the
pictures on the walls
and they aren’t
even good ones
don’t know if
the track lighting
can be trusted
got a feeling
don’t know
where the words went
behind three dirty
booths
one occupied
the furthest
from the back
of my head
some sort of
green table
only the
cushion is my companion now
and it’s really
not that friendly
one cup of
coffee
just looking
around
nothing to see
here…
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