Am I invisible?
Or is it merely Me,
shapeshifting,
overdosing on coke sipping,
because alcohol is
just a cheap escape?
I paid for my order 15 minutes ago,
though it feels like hours
decades
as I am supporting myself
on one worn out foot,
one drained soul.
The other
wrapped in a cast
disguised as an invisibility cloak.
Finally,
She looks up at me,
her innocent gaze.
I’m unrecognizable
a Poltergeist perhaps,
or a forgettable face?
In this moment,
I am Shapeshifting
into a frustrated
and ravenous being
who is merely inquiring about
my disregarded request.
I am unrecognizable.
And so I hand her my receipt,
proof of my existence.
Evidence of my physicality.
I’m a shapeshifter,
attention seeker.
camouflaged into
the zombie apocalypse
of today’s tedious
disappointments.
Amber is the Color of Her Energy 