Entry - MAG Poetry Prize 2009

Coffee

by Aranee Manoharan

I don't like coffee. It's too bitter.
But I buy it sometimes in the summer.
The cold kind.
The one that comes in the clear plastic cup, 
Mixed with crushed ice and vanilla.
I usually sit down somewhere and drink this coffee,
The cold kind, the sweet kind,
As I watch people walk on by.
They walk with cigarettes between their fingers and mobile phones in their hands,
An iPod earphone occupying the would-be lone, open ear;
Sealing their fates, burying their souls.
As I sit and sip at my coffee,
The cold kind, the sweet kind,
I imagine what it is that they think about, these people,
The ones who are isolated from the world they walk with;
A chosen alienation, a known one,
An accepted norm now that we walk past one another oblivious to other lives and other hearts that beat just as our own do.
I sit and I wonder this, as I sip at my coffee,
The cold kind, the sweet kind,
And watch people walk on by,
As music plays straight into my ears and takes over my mind,
Affecting my thoughts.
I create stories of their lives.
Alone I sit and sip at my coffee,
The cold kind that comes in the clear plastic cup,
Listening to the soundtrack explode in my ears,
Watching people walk on by.

Added: 30.04.2009

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