waiting for the coffee to be served <br />we lean forward and back <br />slow rock on our chairs <br />in earth-time <br />to piped muzak <br /> <br />we possess the table <br />we've mapped-out our space <br />and so far as we are able <br />have expressified our face <br /> <br />then it started to unravel <br />or so we extrasensed <br /> <br />we'd snagged a string of words <br />and though with good intent <br />returned them to the lips <br />that gave them utterance <br /> <br />and as our heads were swivelling <br />three hundred and sixty degrees <br />the contents of the trolleys <br />trembled with unease <br /> <br />yet no-one seemed to notice <br />no questioning no fuss <br />if they drink cappuccinos <br />they must be one of us<br /><br />Stephen Brian Brady<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/inalienable-in-supermarket-coffee-bar/
