Trench Foot

It had become a routine.

With lethargic summer days

Came our high-octane evenings.

We'd spend our nights at our coffee house

Enjoy each other's company,

Berate each other's music,

And talk up a pity storm.

We were stuck in a rut

And I was getting trench foot.

We sat on suave metal chairs

Talking about how "nothing's happened

Since the last time I saw you",

Just like the night before.

I would test your discomfort threshold

With excessively awkward questions

That shut us up on the way home

Just like the night before.