Morning Coffee Stop

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I wander for a while on polished tiles

and never consider slipping

or melting under the neon lights

of commodities blanket halls

I glimpse outside

and the sky tells a lie

the day should wake

but it is night-time still

a grey day consuming

the should-be summer haze

I raise my Mocha “To Death”

saving nothing for life

 

 

 

 

 

 

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