Early Morning Coffee Stop

I approached the coffee shop in the wee hours of the morning
My backpack tired on my shoulders and filled with
Thick books at which I had not looked for years
Full tea cup
It'll last the passing time
And the place is empty while I press pen to paper
Scour old manuscripts
Write and write and read and...

The place is somehow and suddenly filled with folks
Sitting near me, across from me, snatching the extra chairs from my table
And the chatter feels deafening
As I come out of the world of skimming Angels in America and Yasmina Reza's Art and
jotting notes for teenaged actors in the margins of everything...

There are a few drops of tea left
But the peace
The peace is gone

And I drop my cup into the green bin and scuffle my chuck taylor's on the smooth orangey-brown floor and I load my things into the knapsack...

You were a haven once...

I scuttle home.