A Small Thesis on the Cost of Belonging

Honored to see my work published in The Alchemist’s Cabin, Porch Light Poetry . This piece lived with me for a long time before it found its way onto the page, and I’m glad it found a home with editors who treated it with such care. Support their work!

Jackson, MS. 2009

A Small Thesis on the Cost of Belonging

I went to the coffee shop—

(the one with the little dog on the door)

and I ordered

an extra-wet cappuccino

Do you ever people watch?

It’s strange, being pulled into other lives—

(without invitation)

because our hearts just won’t mind their own business

And I must confess—

I’m scared sometimes

of what I’ll see

(the hand slipping into the tip jar)

of what will break my heart

(the homeless man leaning against my reflection)

of what I can't unsee

(head ducked, shame-red. Stop yelling at her, Steve)

But today there was a couple sitting next to me,

(in their seventies or so)

I watched them unabashedly—

my book forgotten

They sat face to face

(with MacBooks open, back to back)

not looking at each other

(both sipping coffee, black—no sugar)

and yet still somehow tethered

(by an invisible string)

As if on cue they both look up—

their eyes meeting over the screens

and telegraphed something quiet

(something kind)

then a brush of fingers across the table

(across time)

such a small gesture

of connection

(of remembering)

For a moment I slipped inside their love story—

(their life story)

into the ease of two people still noticing

It takes courage to notice, I think

The place starts to fill

I try to turn back—

book patiently waiting

but my eyes drift—

to the people around me,

their lives unfolding

like pages turned elsewhere,

in stories I’ll never know

(yet somehow now belong to).

*First Published 2/12/2026 in The Alchemist's Cabin