04/04/2026
my toxic trait as a writer is eavesdropping on everything when I am out by myself grabbing a coffee reading a book. The chattering sonder of it all.
Chattering sonder
Perched at the counter as Borges washes through my brain the chattering crests above my ears and I ask myself how they met.
how she ended up here mustering up interest in the tepid man across from her who foams at the mouth to mansplain. how he managed to get her here when his half of the conversation seems as riveting as dry cork.
enter the waiter, chuckling to himself as he test drives flirty lines on me to try on the lovely french woman who works here…I tell him to workshop more because …well they wouldn’t work on me and he deserves to know.