Coffee Taker

I will stop caring and you won’t know it. You’ll be oblivious like you were to Sarah Chalke joining Roseanne, or Russell Brand leaving radio, just the one station specifically.

And the days sweep so that some sight lines are totally obscured and you forget what genuineness is, that genuineness is a word, not mistake, and every attribute you sought to high-school-lose, and acclimatise until you were someone else entirely, the man in the office that girl-gets, you accentuate until you’re the stereotyped version of yourself and you don’t know how you got there: think Zach Braff, after the indie film which should’ve cemented personality but somehow didn’t.

But there’s still time to rewrite your own version and not buckle to other people’s storylines for you: I think Zach’s on stage now. I watch you sink into carpet like it’s coffee and you’re Demerara and you almost integrate entirely, and the carpet is office gray.

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