Coffeeshop blues

Titular head of this charade,
ego parade on days wet with wind.
Salty spray and veins drowning in caffeine.
Who says I am this love, forlorn
weeping at the stones not knowing
which way the one-way street runs.
We last as long as any life,
dead the way we fear we can be.

But then guilt. Outlast memories
laid bare in the stretched out sun.
Seeing the same road. Where was it seen
before. If I lose my way. Truncated
body then falls apart to your masterpiece
misery. Karmic finale
a capella before the firing squad
filling me with blankness.
Me and my mind overloaded with judgment.
Spilling stained coffee the old women shun
for the rain-needled window.
Do you know what you’d like? As if
money can buy that kind of confidence,
that misleading self; my life choice
on the menu out of order.

As slow a meaninglessness this. This life
to eulogize these dreams.

If confusion then order got lost
in dead air. If cowardice then my heart
found comfortable prisons without walls.
This heavy darkness.
Self untold.
Not willing to know that feeling
wet waterless waves sharp stinging.
Still I live. In this shed skin.

Somewhere it’s fog. Those are mountains
ominous and belching out the sky.
Even the sea.
Murderous to reach my bones.