“conversation” and a coffee

As if by some unknown magic,
with a flick of the smallest digit,
unseen, the color of conversation shifts
from the abstract to the inanely mundane;

There is no flash, no tell, everyone is left fooled 
and simplified by the lack of content
non-commital nods 'hm's and 'huh's peppered 
giving the illusion of attention 
guiding the audience in a direction where they think a coin should
be only to have it turn up in their ear. 

And here, now, sitting perched and somehow deeply saddened
this wryly crumpled figure types at their desk, 
fingertips slowly numbing, paralleling the thoughts that swirl
local anaesthetic to the senses, 
each new thought with it brings 
a further flexion of the knee
a twist of the hip
a pretzeling of the arms beneath the thighs
the perch slowly contorting into 
a balancing act of comfort vs. elasticity of sinew

a sip of lightly sweetened coffee, just barely off black
the lingering flavor of acid and chocolate
magic in and of itself that anyone could keep it down.

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