That smiling lurker. Creep? No, waiter.
His ego pinned to bare biceps.
An old woman smoking, cultured, archaic.
Here is my fragility… Touch it.
Once more unto the mind’s breach.
Old dreams sell cheaply, pass quickly.
Tightly knotted struggle, myself the epicentre.
Beauty and booze, and me between.
“Patience? No, no. I am iIntegrated.”
Sometimes, people just find each other.