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Zoo ManiacRunning jumping screaming and shouting
Looking front looking back and doubting
Tasting trying thinking and disliking
Don't know what to do or where to go, sinking
Like in a zoo, the lions rule
No matter what prison they have been moved to
And if you are a mouse, avoid the elepahant
Because beneath his foot there's nothing more you can do
Hiding sliding crying and whining
Stepping up stepping back and nearly dying
Hunting searching seeking and looking
Don't know what to see don't know what to be, drowning
Like in a zoo, it's wild and crazy
There's no way out of this maniac frenzy
And if there's a beginning, there must be an end
When I wake up from this dream, opening my eyes to see
if you need help making it through the dayremember:
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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