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our lives are coffee grounds
pressed into
a single espresso
faces furrow
prematurely in caffeinepale
sunless cafés
drinking in sweet exciting poison
our cup overflows
the service makes us toss it against the wall
shards of ourselves folded
in a stained tablecloth
steaming waiting
to get the waiter's attention
without booze
no drinking buddies
no tipping
could that be why
Happiness Café closed its doors?

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