la luna

riding around baltimore, longing for a destination. i find myself in one coffee shop after another; an anarchist bookstore, a folky internet cafe, a bustling neighborhood shrine to caffeine. this fills the day, but at night, leaves me wide awake- and feeling desperately lonely. i sit on the deck of my boat, knees hugged up to my chin, swearing at the full moon for making my blood boil, the coffee for seducing me into that last sleep eluding cup, the world for leaving me here alone, and myself for caring.