writing in a coffeeshop (a poem)

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It seems poetic
sitting there with a cup
of bitter coffee
perhaps a pastry
in a paper bag
but the barista is bold
like seventh grade
the man adjacent is
talking loudly
the doorbell jingles
to signal a new customer
someone says hello
and I lose my line
I pack up my cords
to go where I write best
an unromantic wooden table
chomping on nuts
at home
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