Winning Coffee...du

I sit under the blades of whirring fans
Mind away from blurring glance
A 1 seat touring van
Filled with a cast of characters
Mercurial as uncast quicksilver pans
Pots of coffee calling each other kettle drums
Melted and fluid and when written, crystalline
Mind, pistols, in go bullets of thought
Out come words, triggers pulled in
Figures of speech, bigger than all of us
In a world where all is dust
I, merely a transiently opining transient
Basking in the ambiance of a coffee shop
I fancy it's wall of transparency
All the men on errands seem terribly vacant to me
As they locomotor past
Our paths, cross only once
Yet they've become bullets in my gun
I imagine as they cross my mind, they split my wig
As they have transect storefront windows
Speak to transcend the pain of mourn struck windows
I was born to be stuck in the middle
Until I reach the my end like the husband of widows
Coffee now spittle
Sailing the authorship, fingers twiddle out missiles
Ballistics analysis has me as the answer to the riddle
Of the crime of lighting the spark that set poetry ablaze
A blaze that burned out of control for days
Leaving only a smoldering page
Blackened by craze of factions
Quays, harboring fugitive aquatic assassins
Of love, caring and passion
Sifting, the ash in hopes
That I could save my neck from ropes
No doubt destined to be tighter than boas
Judging by this my focus, sibilant, is on par with spermatozoa
Climbing fallopian tube by tube, inundantia flows like Noah
File further up the poe-tree
Until struck by agent orange in a notably
Encoded rotary buzz saw
Bust raw off the top, reversed and filled with Java
And that brew's what caused this rant
I sit in quicksilver pans
With one to drink, one to smoke
In a coffee shop, under the dance of whirring fans