Two old timers play chess.
A well-dressed man reads a newspaper.
A casual schlub reads a book.
Students are doing homework.
The two best looking ones study thick medical texts.
I sit in my carefully selected bedroom-floor T-shirt eating breakfast at noon.
Nobody talks to each other.
We all sit absorbing our various drugs.
Sugar heads eat their pastries.
Caffeine junkies guzzle 20 oz. organic, fair-trade human fuel.
Music fiends bob their fashionable headphones to the beat.
Lord knows what the students are using to stay focused.
I'm a well-rounded junky absorbing anything and everything.
I finished my turkey sandwich, so now I gnaw on my fingernails.
The Radiohead soundtrack this coffee shop selected makes me anxious.
A second chess match pops up. (These guys use a timer. Real fuckin' pros.)
Baristas bark out orders.
It's Labor Day, but these caffeine pushers don't get the day off. America needs it's drugs.
I have to work later myself. I push alcohol in the evenings. (A few questionable life decisions has left me a 30 year old bartender. I blame Obama; Anyone but myself.)
I imagine an alternate universe where I'm confident enough to talk to the beautiful human specimen to my right.
I imagine a second where she slaps me in the face.
I decide to go for a walk and contemplate my current universe.
The immense size of it all usually makes me feel better.
A pair of tan legs and acid-washed short shorts strolls by my table as I pack up.
I imagine a universe where she joins me on my walk home.