Strong black coffee and a corner seat,
Somewhere to sit, out of the hurly-burly,
Watching the deranged world from a distance,
As if nothing really mattered anyway.
Ridiculous, how easily it all happens;
A glimpse of stockinged leg, a chance expression,
And the droll old mechanism clicks into motion,
Overruling the pompous trivia of life.
Moods, emotions, where do they come from?
I am not myself; this is just another phase,
Which may or may not lead to understanding.
Decisions are called for; I remain undecided.
Once or twice in my life pure beauty
Has turned me on my head, and I beheld
How much better the world looked that way,
And I longed to live forever upside-down.
The befuddled days are not to be reckoned,
Rococo farrago of incident, detail and angle;
The art of perspective eludes me; ineptitude
Blurs foreground and background into one.
The coffee cup stands empty, temptingly fragile.
Why not be a devil, knock it over, see it fall,
Hear it smash into tiny pieces? But no, I refrain,
Checked by the smiling menace of order.
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