The brouhaha in a haze
held at bay by thick layers of glass
serpentine flow of passers-by
cars rushing like a dam overspill –
such calm, alone in the coffee shop
the barista out of sight with a mop
– on my own in the heart of London,
that's one in ten million chances –
yet soon someone will
open the door and let it all in
avalanching the tundra in my heart.
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