You sit in a corner of a coffee shop and watch the day go by. 
The prospect of seeing someone you know is like the thread 
hanging from the flannel shirt that you wear. 
You cut it off and yank it, set it free. 
The cares leave, and you leave yourself 
And merge into the rhythm of the movement. 
A mass floating above a chair against a wall - 
Nothing can find you when you're gone. 
You smile at a face you know, 
And words flow, and eyes spark, 
And gestures sail smoothly,
Tucked within the safety blanket of your soul. 
Flying freely through the room.