Log0027 | W̶o̶r̶k̶i̶n̶g̶ Writing

Lofty Coffee, downtown.
I sit with my wife working writing,
A newly minted US citizen and his wife.

Across from our table sits a thin ginger kid working,
Baby-faced; probably older than he looks.
Rough curled hair and an oversized jacket hit exactly on the vibe he was curating.

He is working,
Legitimately.
Non-stop typing for over an hour,
Headphones on – locked in,
a napkin blew off the table,
Didn’t even flinch
Didn’t even notice.
Stopping only to segment his orange,
Into bites,
one at a time,
as he types.

I hadn’t seen a single sip of coffee,
Oh, I see,
The cup is empty,
Yes, it is empty
That explains a lot.