Bookstores, Cafes, and Chaos

Fragments of the world appear:
a blue-white streetlight hovers near;
a shifting, sandaled foot scuffs oiled wood;
the scent of tea and black caffeine
corrupts the air like unseen fog.
Blind people flip through Vonnegut
and architecture magazines. I laugh.
In such a place where people find
simplicity in ordered words,
the sheer verbosity in all those books
came from a pool of ink
that really isn't big at all.
That is, unless you consider that ink it is,
then it's a lot.
Added to that, varieties of addictive beverages,
of reading styles and friendly conversations,
and all should make this place, in fact,
the anarchist's nightmare,
the church chaos gets headaches in.