The man’s neck craned eerily
Over his shaking cup of coffee,
As if the bones in his neck
Were disjointed, hanging loosely
There was a distance to his eyes
As if they were thinking, thinking
But never quite seeing things
I kept my distance, like most others,
But he insisted on talking,
Mumbling ravaged thoughts,
As if he didnt see the frightened
Posture and body language
Of all those around him