space invasion

So Here I Am. drinking cheap cheap very cheap coffee. from a fucking vending machine. invisible brewer. invisible coffee granules. invisible steamer. He said yesterday that the crowd thought I was nuts talking to an invisible man. But then he took off walking upside down, a very difficult case of a person.

I am hiding from the books among classical paintings depicting medieval medical practice. Little ladies in white gowns are here too. They serve coffee to those who pay to have their coffee brewed by real people. If one dollar were not the only thing left in my pockets earlier, I would have paid to see the steaming waterfall of dark roast aroma pouring out of a pot. I would watch the inside of my little ceramic bowl disappear under the black. I used to drink creamy lattes.

I am hiding from the books. The men outside the window rush by carrying massive pieces of equipment across the roof, back and forth. They were whistling yesterday at the girls in black dresses, who were performing their pain along a brick wall of stage lights. Women are never invisible. always under attack from glances. space invasion. Encouraged not to look at men, but shy away instead with our eyes lowered. that is how men stay comfortably invisible.
As I am drinking my cheap coffee. How happy and wealthy I am today.
This coffee and these books. These looks. Thank you.