Please Shut Up in My Coffeeshop so I can Study and Don’t Have to Resort to Writing Irritated Poems

by Shaun Terry

Cup of Coffee

Forcefully making failed circles
in a pool of gelatin,
pressing arms and legs,
flailing.

Writing disjointed thoughts
in a small, brown bound notebook,
waiting for divine inspiration.
Still waiting.

Math problems strewn
over charts and workbooks,
lying in a pile,
like a pack of wolves defeated.

People’s voices,
over cinnamon and piano,
like a field of jagged mountains,
and not like a soup of snowy waves.

Go home.

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