I carefully make my way through the coffee shop
I walk up to the counter
"iced mocha, right?"
"aye"
"iced mocha, no whipped cream!"
I've finally made my mark
I have been noticed in this strange new world
I take my drink, leave a tip, then sit and contemplate
finish some school work, read a little
I stay as long as I want, do whatever I want
noone with me to get bored of everything and talk of nothing
I leave when I want
no pressure at all

even with countless friends at home
even with contented solitude here
I feel so alone
there's nothing like the touch
the touch of a special someone
other than the feel of the Heavens shining down from above
the brilliance of sheer space

it feels the right time to leave
to take a walk, to get away from it all
loneliness converges on my soul again
and I falter, decide against the walk
so I head on back to another place I call home
no stars out anyways

written 4/13/98
©1998 Matt Henderson 4/21/76