Unpublished.
CAFÉ
How fucking pretentious is this?
I sit alone in my booth
Sipping café latte that’s too hot
Killing time in Brighton
I listen to the conversations
I imagine their lives at home
What job they hold, car they drive
And my pen scratches at the paper
An insect dipped in ink scrittering away
Allowing my thoughts to run aloud
As I wait and kill time
Each minute a death knoll
As I wait, till I leave
So I can drive to be with you
To see your act of Rudigore
To applaud your G&S
And still I wait, in Brighton
Sipping Latte, burning my tongue
And thinking of you
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