waiting in line.. in step...
in monotones.. in midevening.
waiting for a cup of coffee
from a nihilist barista.
while outside it is raining..
outside the clouds float by in
gray shades of indifference
outside a few pigeons cheat the
sidewalks mortared lines.
yet inside the lines of my skin is
more than water.
waiting in line.. in step...
in monotones for
my caffiene osmosis.
turning to the right slightly to mix
a little of octobers cloudy reason
with some powdered vanilla in
my cup of coffee.
the radio overhead is tuned to npr
it is a man and a woman talking about
dandilions and the dwindling mountian
goat population.
i think they are wearing sweaters
but i will never really know
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem