3 A.M. coffee
by cristina-monica-moldoveanu
alive and alone
I have to chew others’ scolding laughter or contempt
I stand tall
I stand small
with all the music in the world
smearing me like oil
in a gas station disco bar
thinking that I can’t pack my clothes
to leave the dancers behind
sneaking in the kitchen when others are asleep
dreaming about paradise islands
where it is warmer
I slowly drink my coffee
chewing bread crusts
as if they were mom’s slippers
when my teeth were showing up