You keep disappearing.
I think I catch sight of you, then you run away.
I'm saying this because at one time you made me do cruel things,
mean deeds in the name of reality and practicality and agendas of your choosing, not mine,
and oh, wasn't it so perfect and well thought-of, your little set-up.
People see me staring and it looks like they'll ask me to move on.
Cafes once so timeless are now short-circuited by pragmatists and laptops and blockers
of light in the glass.
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