Dharma

I’m envious of
this mild drama soap opera
unfolding next to me
in this coffee shop

Two younger women sitting
with two elderly women
over hot coffee in 
animated conversation

It is half in perhaps Albanian
based on the neighborhood
and half in English
None of it sounds more

than half-irritated
I’m envious of
their dharma 
I’m envious of 

generations meeting
in public in camaraderie
I’m sitting alone
The air vent above me

is dripping on my table
where I’m drinking 
unsweetened iced black coffee
I keep it covered out of fear

I ought to move but
that’s not how this works
Not another empty table in here
This is where dharma has placed me

among the nominally content
Getting rained out indoors
Sipping bitterness from a glass jar
I overpaid for this drink and this seat

I had to try and see 
if people were still people
Was anyone in here
going to be able to see me

I’m envious of all these people
talking more or less calmly 
to each other as is their custom
while I am fearful and invisible

Usually I feel like they see me
if they see me at all
as dirt or a stain to be cleaned
Invisibility is a step up I guess

I will follow directions
Bus my own table when I leave
No one’s going to see me go
as no one saw me when I was here

If I die in the parking lot
it might make a fuss when they find me
I will be a remark at dinner later
then forgotten and that will be dharma

Just go I tell myself
Just go you invisible envious man
There will be a purpose to it 
Maybe at last you’ll be seen

as more than a stain to be cleaned
I doubt it but one
can only do what one does
and hope someone sees you for you