floundering in endless shift.
When anger is the coffee wake up, the split second fury,
there is nowhere to go from there–
escalation peaked at the start.
Chafing at my patience, she leaves the cafe wounded,
walks home to escape the noise, arrogance and
irritation incited by a felling crowd chopping pig.
Her stomach and head ache yet again.
She walks out, and I glower at my coffee.
She walks out, and I fail to trace her steps.
She walks out, and I grouse at you like a heat-seeking
missile finding the volcano erupted.
I did not find her.
Anger found me.
She walked alone.