Hands clenched tightly, the man sits
At home in his past
A farmer’s boy, taken by the city and spit out as a white collar
Remembering simpler times, when laziness hurt only the family
Now, he knows that his work benefits only strangers, crushes only unknowns
Nerves deadened through city life
He sits, an automaton with only an inkling of guilt
Yet in that single moment, he feels alone
Sitting within the light, separated from the couple and drunk with his singularity
Hat doffed inside, a helmet protecting thoughts from outside scrutiny
He doesn’t know this bar’s bartender
He is like any other tender, friendly and curious
A personality that clashes oh so beautifully with his own
The loneliness of the city, large and distant
But just as debilitating as the loneliness of country life
He eats a muffin resolutely, with all the resignation of a death row inmate
Resigned to his fate as another cog in the mesh