the drink (tale from a coffeehouse).

A crack

in the door,
the cold

from outside

on its back,
sneezes
in meandering spots

on the floor
borrowed

sun rays
&

takes

my face

in its hands.
A crack

in the door,
pretending

not to be staring,
throws

a sip or two
of gleaned todays

down

my throat. Oh, how they
grow

on my taste-buds!
Thrive

into a tree, a trip,

love
or a

R E V O L U T I O N.
The crack

in the door…
Where lonely

hearts,
happy

thoughts
and one way

tickets are hanging,

this strange crack

in the door.
Dressed, undressed,

and revealed

by satisfied customers

and day trippers,
my friend,

pretending to look away.
A crack in the door

where some roads end,
takes my face in its

hands.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

______________

28055959_10100203737021993_6275764041008939097_n

Photo: Alexander ARTWAY, “Parisian café” (circa 1930)

 

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

w

Connecting to %s