We are all stuck here in this piece of history
You stand behind the counter
I come in and sit down at the pavilion every day
You dream of marvelous wonders in the world that I bring in
I crave a good cup of coffee to calm myself down while listen to the birds
There is no greater truth in my being or yours
No union, Nor love affair, Certainly no friendship
Figments of imagination pumped by wild fantasies
Channeled as fuel to feed the lifelessness of our shared colorless days
You, in your conviction of a story
I, in an endless search for something that extends infinitude
There isn’t anything special
See, that’s a word crafted and infused with artificiality
In sooth, the truth is all too plain
We are but human after all.
