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I Sit Defending the Illusion of Me

Sipping on a cup of coffee,
speaking of unimportant things:
	Independent films,
	The Republican Party,
	A waitress walking by.
Cocktail deliberations in a cafe
carefully hiding  sincere emotions:
	subtle lust,
	simply inspired awe,
	the fear of rejection.
My companion sits across the table,
she keeps a delicate, observant persona:
	quietly listening,
	acting calmly passive,
	softly touching my hand.
I sit defending the illusion of me.