Really, I Come Here Just To Watch Him

Really

I come here just to watch him

Though the atmosphere is tolerable

I suppose

Just the right mix of smoked wood and neon

With the jostling music of night-time fiasco

Weighing so lightly on a mind clouded

By no more than caffeine and fatigue

I can sit in solitary bliss

My intrusion slight

As his fair head flickers in and out of view

While the coffee in the cup before me

Is drained into someplace in my spleen

That aches for some kinder use

And thought I'm busy composing thoughts

For the day ahead

Scratching a monologue of trivial complaint

And though I keep up the pretence

Of traditional soirees on the traditional night

In the traditional solitude, really

I come here just to watch him