Noise and Solitude

A date with oneself. So crude. So needy. Why with yourself? Doesn’t the spotlight shine on you? Doesn’t the clientele fall into awkward silence? Perhaps in earlier years, but now loneliness or aloneness is no longer a diagnosis.

So much discussion, but all it sounds like is noise. I can’t even discern two words. Too much chatter. I can’t discern emotion. Nor language. But surely, if I pay more attention, I can discern something. Yet I have no real desire to do so.

What could I learn in a coffee house anyway? In a Starbucks? Suddenly the noise lessens. Did people leave? Did the few noisy ones leave? I saw a few leave, for I am by the door, but not this many to make such a difference.

Perhaps they fell tired of yapping. Perhaps they were competing with each other. I guess the competition is over? Has someone won? How can you win in a coffee shop? Is there a medal and a trophy?

I guess finishing my carrot cake, which could feed a village elsewhere, could be of some value, of some win or benefit. Cruel I am, but I overpaid well for this chunk of gluttony. And I would happily share it if I were not on a date with myself.