Coffee shop

The guy I’m looking at

looks over his paper like a rapist

and he sips his morning coffee like a serial killer.

Sometimes

some people catch you off guard

and they never even know.

There’s just that awkward eye-contact

above newsprint horizons

reminding us that we’re being watched,

seen by people

with a sketch artists memory

then left locked in the silent dance

of fading into the crowd.

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About Sean O'Gorman

Spoken Word poet from Ottawa. View all posts by Sean O'Gorman

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