Coffee shop window

Their pace sooths me as the move up the street.
Some with places to go and others with nowhere to be
They keep walking by my window seat.
Some meander back and forth from store to store.
Others stare at the ground; their path walked my memory.
Like fish in warm clothing they move with the current of the street.
Occasionally they stop and talk to others in their path.
The topic unknown drowned out by the window in front of me.
Every now and then one is talking to oneself a little to sternly.
Apparently made at the choices his internal voices have made for him.
Visitors slowly move with their heads looking upwards in awe.
The uneven horizons of rooftops are the view they take in.
Slowly my coffee cup is getting emptier and colder.
I drink the last of it and grab my coat.
I button up and melt into the street for someone else to gauge my path.

I hope I am not talking to myself.