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ForgottenI've been wandering around for a while now
I've been searching for something, anything at all, that's familiar
I'm lost and I want to be found
I want to depend
I want to trust
But 'who to?' is the question my mind asks
I'm waiting for something but I'm not sure what
I'm looking and hoping there's someone there to answer my questions
I hate those doubts I hear
Over and over, all around me
They're tearing at me
Pulling at the seams
I want to prove them wrong
I want to prove it all wrong
But all I am is staggering in the mist
Lying, forgotten, in the smoke
There are only storm clouds following me
I'm on my knees, begging, pleading, for an escape
To escape this confinement
Give me something to grab onto
Can you hear my cries?
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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