I'm in this coffeeshop, see?
And I'm supposed to be writing the story of my life
Because that's what I want my life to be
I want my life to be the story of my life
Written and rewritten and spoken and applause
Reaching people who wonder why or
Think they know or want to know or just like jokes and tears
Because that's the story of my life
But I'm not.
I'm staring at her. I'm peering over my mac staring at her
Peering at her mac
She seems nice
She sits with friends or coworkers or both
Eyes on the screen
Fingers absently twitching
Mugs of coffee cooling
And I want to walk up to her and say
Excuse me, but why?
I was at that table a while ago
There was a man there
And we were talking
About art and toasters and pencils and creation
Of art about toasters using pencils and it was
Engaging and exciting
Creativity discussed giving me the energy
To go back to my mac and
Write more about the story of my life
But you came through between me and him
With your mac and your coffee and your friends
Excuse me sir
Is all you said
To the person with the coffee
And the lipstick
And the earrings
And blood red nails
And serviceable tits
In the boots and leggings and tunic in the greys and maroons
Of the modern woman
And I was so enthused
About pencils and toasters
And art and the story of my life
That it didn't hit me until I sat down
Excuse me sir
Wow
The man gave you his table
Because he was one and you were many
Wandering around this coffeeshop, see?
Looking for a table
And he left
He seemed nice
But you stayed
And instead of writing about the story of my life
I tap tap tap and erase and tap
I peer at you over my mac
And want to ask you
Why
What is it about me
That makes you think I want
To be called sir
But I don't
And that's the story of my life
