It’s cold out here, but you can’t smoke inside,
though the inside glows like the
butt of my cigarette.
I can see them desperately congregated
in that light bulb of a room.
They suck on the bones of words
in their textbooks,
licking the pages clean
while savoring the last droplets of their
$4.00 lattes.
It’s all addictions.
My addiction keeps me out
here in the blue cold
on the wiry metal chairs,
but I love my cigarette, coffee, and reading
time more than anything else.
Smacking my chapped mouth between sips
then taking a drag and
exhaling
as my finger bows to turn the page
and my feet rest on the table before me,
that’s comfort.
Zoe Schwab
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/man-sitting-outside-of-espresso-royale-at-10-30/