2000/public

I hang out in public
to write or revise or read.
I can focus with the rumble
around me.
The silence at home jousts me
into an abrupt self-consciousness
that can freeze me in place.
Sometimes in public
someone wants to talk,
like the woman who just asked
if I am a teacher grading papers,
a banker,
why do I carry my laptop around?
Have I published, what do I think
of screenwriting software?
And then a neighbor with her kid,
who spies me and says, “What
a nice place to sit away the morning,”
Sit away, indeed.
Today there is altogether too much
narrative about the place for a poet,
even one like me.
I hate losing the privacy
of a public place,
having my cover blown.
Being talked to when
I am staring in space
at the glossy covers of books,
drawing words to me
across the room.

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