Tuesday, January 05, 2016

Your Spot

When you have a table,
That you consider yours,
E'en though it belongs to a company,
That sells coffee pours,

Many more than you will ever consume,
And if you did the math,
You sit and drink there five tenths of the time,
The stool graced by many other an ass.

Still, should you come at your regular time,
See someone sitting there,
The anger that wells up inside of you,
Sometimes cannot compare.
Why should that be?
The coffee shop will close,
You'll outlive that spot you appear to need,
What questions our possessiveness does pose.

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