3 A.M. Coffee

alive and alone I have to chew others’ scolding laughter or contempt I stand tall I stand small with all the music in the world smearing me like oil in a gas station disco bar thinking that I can’t pack my clothes to leave the dancers behind sneaking in the kitchen when others are asleep dreaming about paradise islands where it is warmer I slowly drink my coffee chewing bread crusts as if they were mom’s slippers when my teeth were showing up