Cigarette smoke was not enough to fend me off,
though board games weren’t enough to keep me-
I wasn’t looking, but it had to’ve been something important,
to root me there.
I took a picture and wrote a caption,
labeled what it was about the place I’d found
that gave me reason to stay,
but I wasn’t practiced yet.
For it wasn’t at all what I said it was
in my shaky lines and my passionate prose;
it was only a place where you could find
someone to buy a journal with.
Because I was just a girl in a coffee shop,
counting the other me’s walk by,
and I never gave it anything but money;
nothing to last.
So when I grew up, it figures that I’d scorn it,
taking, taking, understanding what I’d gotten
and keeping it when I’d gone.