It’s just the inside of a coffee sho p

I can hear the air conditioning and it’s making me cold.
Though it’s not touching me, it’s making me cold. It’s not brushing my sleeve
Nor waving my hair, yet I hear it: waving over everything its unceasing sound.
It blares and remains and I watch as it raises
Goosebumps along the curves of my arm.

They stand up in sync down to my wrist; I feel them push hairs
Through the follicles of my legs and shove their minuscule weight against my clothes.

There are goosebumps under my hair, sent in a wave along my skull so
I get more bumps and a shshiver down my spine. The longer
I sit here with goosebumps everywhere, the more likely it is I’ll shiver and shake.
I’ll mistype and you’ll see double letters letf unfixed to prove to you
I’m not alright.

I had a conversation witha stranger and I spent time in a public place and I still need to
Make it home. When I reach my car, my voice may have a quiver and I’ll probably be shivering
All night. I can hear the air conditioning and the typing and
The people speaking over there by the door. I can hear the pages turning and the noses sniffling
And that door just opens and opens and squeals. Then, of course, somebody drops their keys.  

My body can’t hold down the bumps or keep out the sound or manage these god damned conversations.
Regulation of my body temp has fallen down the list and so I’ll shiver until I fall asleep.

I shiver until I ffall asleep.

Stay gold,
Sabrina