You are the badass destroyer of this coffeeshop universe,
equipped with impenetrable sunglasses, tall fuzzy rich boots,
and a ragged copy of Beneath The Wheel cradled in your hand.
You destroyed every man in here when you lost the denim coat,
the beret, and finally the glasses, all uniform black.
The space around you is solid and unapproachable,
and the men orbit, lost moons looking for a planet to love,
their heads clicking in your direction like sprinklers set to automatic.