a coffee shop in it’s roughest draft

(aka banter at it's most rehearsed)

A girl alone in the corner, the two pseudo-intellectuals in the other, sitting next to the beer drinking party crazed teens, sitting next to the local vampires, sitting next to a drunk, sitting next to his 40.

People watching at Lestat's. I've heard all these conversations last night and I can promise you I'll hear them all again tomorrow. One would think it gets old. There is an uncomfortable comfort in it. All I need to know about the nature of people I can learn ease dropping over coffee at 10:51pm.

Lit professors know nothing about the underlying metaphors, because after a full year in college these two boys know every thing chuck palahniuk has to offer. Pools are still murky with beer and friends still pass out in their own vomit. Bela Lagosi (although only a actor) is still dead undead. The 12 steps can still save a hopeless drunks life. And the 40 is still cold.

At any given moment I could pretend to be any one of these people, I know what they're going to say before it's said.
But for today I'm ok with being the girl alone in the corner.



only problem is i just ran out of coffee.