Why Here

A coin falls, sharp against tile,

a small chaos rolling through the quiet diner.

People pass, their faces blurred,

and I sit still, caught in this moment’s gravity.

Here, in this booth, the city breathes,

a pulse that drags me like a current,

tangled in choices I never chose,

a loose penny rolling beneath neon light.

What meaning clings to accidents?

This place, this breath, this chance to exist,

a fragile weight that presses down,

and dares me to move or break or stay.