Holding loosely his alotted sheet
of eco-friendly napkins.
He's soapy and lukewarm.
The sky is a pure burning blue,
no fluff.

We are inconsiderate
with unmistakable reason.
We have places to be,
see our tension, rigid nails
that's because we have
purpose.

How can I attain a tranquil
coffee break
When his pupils are fifty times
their normal size.
And his fingerprints are grey
with crumbs of sidewalk.

04/05/2005

Posted on 04/06/2005
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