I sit in blank,
with no wording.
Language is what’s lost.
What I need is another,
mood,
another,
state.
Perhaps, I should leave the country,
and acquire a new vocabulary.
How lovely,
to write poetry,
from a charming french cafe.
For now, this empty,
soulless,
Starbucks will
do.
The jazz like rhythm
I yearn for,
will have to come through music.
And the muse,
anywhere but here.
When you live in the middle of nowhere, Starbucks can be your muse… trust me 😉
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