Am I fitting in now?
The artisan before my morning croissant and flat white
That already replaced my fried egg and builders tea
Sketches a new picture of a lost soul
As I sit by the door.

I’m the littered streets dancing in the wind
Behind the marked window of a hipster cafe
Bathed in a steam punk decor
You’re paying for in organic blend and
Milk patterns on my ground up fuel.
I’m the head down slacked pants
Stewing in electro indie folk by a child in a bow tie
You’re paying for in reclaimed wood and
Mismatching crockery.

Am I fitting in now?

I sit for an hour
Chained mug waltz
A pen and a pad
I’m a written cliche in a gluten free roll neck sweater
Beyond the world I walk home.

Tell me who I am.
I’ll have one to go.