Always seated at the counter
With my back to the door.
No table or booth for an encounter
Loneliness is such a bore.
One coffee to go; no reason to stay
Just keep the line moving.
No sparkling conversations or witty repartee
Just alone in a crowded café.
Those left behind endure it
With grace and dignity
Those thrown away revile it
Bitter from the indignity.
Loneliness comes in many forms
The least of which is being alone.
I survive like a turtle in the storm.
Hiding in the shell I’ve grown.