Another Sonnet Written At a Coffee House

You sink into the bosom of the chair And wonder if I too once sat amidst The chattering, white coffee sipping fare— The lonely writers ‘pining for a kiss. Did I peer out over the porce’lain mug And purse my vulgar mouth over the lip My eyes a’roll behind my glasses’ fog My writer turning phrase and spinning quips? Did I curl my toes under my feet Threading my fingers ‘round the scolding cup My yellow molars grinding to the beat Of meds-a-glee and glutt’nous caffeine ups? No— I didn't’t sit cross-legged and introverted— I flipped through glossy pages and consorted.