Coffee shop solitude

Sitting in the coffee shops alone.
I begin thinking of old girlfriends.
A thousand colours
and all shades of blue.
Everything starts over,
a fumble and a fiddle.
And rooms getting darker.
Their faces and veins,
and hair bouncing
like a horse’s mane – linger on.
Sometimes another moment.
Sometimes another night.
So much work
and shades of insanity.
I tell myself to think
of something else.
And order another cup of coffee.

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