i keep looking for the line that was waiting in line. scanning for a raised hand at the back of the stanza. for the voice simmering just under the noise and the scribbles. coffee in coffee shops is easy, asking someone else to grind it out and brew it means that you are in their hands for the gift of the sip.
as he sighs
and rubs his
head bent and staring down, you say i’m good, i’m good in rasped out air ripped edges, punctuated by that beeping sound somewhere. this is not good. you lying down now, but not resting. 26 […]