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Why?Why is life so complicated?
Why am I so cursed and hated?
I'm tired of this constant fight,
Show me how to make it right.
This situation is so tragic,
You're blaming me for using magic.
You know naught of what you speak,
Your mind is closed, your reason weak.
Your actions are so underhand,
Judging what you don't understand.
Witchcraft is no more a crime,
You're living in a bygone time.
Why should I change my convictions
Just to minimise the frictions?
Live and let live, that's my way,
I don't tell others how to pray.
Open your mind, learn something new,
See things from different points of view.
Open up your fettered mind,
Leave the Burning Times behind.
Why can't you see that I'm not evil?
I won't turn you into a weevil.
You won't find yourself with paws,
My broomstick is for sweeping floors.
Look beyond your hate and fears,
Show wisdom far beyond your years.
Swap ignorance for open mind,
You may be awed by what you find.
The Coffee GodThe Coffee God behind the counter shuffles foot to foot, a dance of steam and espresso. Black painted fingernails, inch gauged ears and a gray striped sweatshirt, hood crooked on his back. There's a cigarette tucked behind one ear; it bobs and twitches with each step.
“Non-fat caramel latte,” he calls, just as he always does, part of a spell, part of a mantra, toneless (just a tuck at the end). I reach. He looks up.
The espresso maker hisses.
There's something like a grin, something like a spark, something like a shared secret linked eye to eye. When he passes over the drink (rough cardboard sleeve hot to the touch), he lingers. Our fingers brush, a shiver, a jolt, a ten-watt shock.
The Coffee God tilts his chin, shouts, “Hey, mind if I take my break now?”
and ducks around the counter without waiting for a reply.
He slips his cigarette between his lips without taking his eyes from mine. I follow him out the door.
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