Circles of Chaos by: Julie Wells, Acrylic on canvas, 2014.
Sitting Solitary in Starbucks
by: Allison Kennedy
Business men hunch; computer peckers, them, not me,
A display of evolution, the genes permutate
accompanied by the smell of burned coffee.
Behind, a can of tuna is opened. Ew, how can that be?!
Through the atmosphere it permeates.
The college student munches; smelly eater, him, not me.
Several languages are spoken over tea.
The indistinct murmur surprisingly resonates
over the smell of burned coffee.
Two graying, pot-bellied men chat casually
of their pasts and of their fates.
A chance meeting at brunch; nostalgic speakers, them, not me.
A sample platter is passed around for free
She offers, but I negate,
over the smell of burned coffee.
Sun sets as the light travels down my thigh to knee.
Several patrons come in with their mates.
Happy couples flirt; sacrificially satisfied, them, not me.
Inhaling the smell of burned coffee.