Looking The Part

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Wonder the curling fingertips,

the adamant task

drawing locks

security

in the presence of life.

 

Check austere provisions,

a smooth swiff,

filling jars,

a man pacing the room,

always in a wonder of how.

 

A picture of human interaction

“I’m going solo”

spoke a gentleman java guide,

off to the focal point

where lives intermingle alone.

 

Yet, interaction, a game,

or is it truth

that sets aside

an intellect

beyond the comfort zone.

 

The breeze outside

wafting wide open screen,

leaves, dance in

unison

the humanity of life.

 

Would one wonder,

if the hand swiping a sallow

brow

similar to their own,

a night before when alone.

 

A line of laptops

give quiet indication

we have all been here

before,

in certain wander we atone.

 

Sweet is the humanity

of discrete passion

for the moment,

the privacy

yet Vicinity wills love.

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Sights in a Small Town Cafe

Java Moose

java moose in grand marais

I watched the lines continue to grow,

all wanting, waiting, wishing,

yet I never knew the latter,

especially by expression,

I only managed to maybe gather,

their reasons to be seemed rather

the same as mine and yours.

 

Not your typical cafe I might add,

the people wanting much more,

than the usual scenario

-to see and be seen-

to more be understood,

to be in line with a certain

pleasure,

beyond the usual fare.

 

In a north-wood cafe,

the goal is not to stay,

yet it seems the rains have made it that way,

so the lines have increased,

though the attitude remain the same,

we are all part of this universe,

and today is just another day.

Coffee, Please

Coffee Shop

summer brew smells and delights for everyone to taste

we all arrived at different times all wanting the same ideal

perhaps a latte, summer cooler, smoothie, I will preference

a hot black coffee

please

we are your neighbor, business woman, lunch breaker, visitor,

we will talk about  a lot of the same things all day long

everyone repeating themselves, imagining their unique

take on virtual reality, that world we all stroll through

brought to attention with the sweet aroma

of dark roast, medium brew, chocolate, or perhaps

DECAF!

(seems almost sacrilegious)

little does it matter though once the dialogue begins,

once the wardrobes arrive,

once all of the interactions teeming to notice one another

settle into the comfy chairs and the hardback postures.

I like to imagine people’s lives while sipping my coffee

black

no cream please, leave the sugar out, I think it is a healthy dose

of fresh-brewed

obsidian.

always please remember

to tip the barrister.

Finding Peace

dunn

dunn brothers coffee

Polar opposites,

same wavelength,

parallel universe

finding an excuse.

~

Want to recognize

people have habits

means little to me

so why bother them.

~

On the street corner

he stood resolute

looking only ahead

alone we might exist.

~

I studied biology

felt dissected again

when all of the I’s

came out to play.

~

If we use rhythm

carve out a path

for God’s sake

please stop the lie.

~

The electoral poll

is a stateside secret

on the planet round

a laughter prevails.

~

I’m sitting down

mind travel sky

physicality static

remains the same.

~

travel for miles

search for vacancy

when will YOU truly

make an appearance.

~

This energy begins

a routine exam

forever again,

a new search within.

Crowd Noise

painting by Debra Hurd

painting by Debra Hurd

While saxophone serenade melody,

glance across the room, and the world is alive,

with activity, purpose, longevity,

we all seem to want a similar drive,

waiting for the sunset,

while just realizing the crisp morning of a summer day,

we are living without any regret,

sharing our lives together with coffee and a gentle sway.

The rhapsody of that surreal breeze,

listen, can you hear the emotion of that chord,

the fingertips strum soft the lines,

that music, that interlude, such a marvelous journey.

While the noise of an active hustle creates

a steady rhythm of ‘hello who am I’

the eyes wander the room,

we all have our lives,

if only together, we might sing the words,

that suggest universally we can play the saxophone –

we might listen while the jazz plays our song.

Sunday Morning Ambience

Coffee nearby,

always seems a staple,

how we begin a new

state of mind.

We could recognize ourselves

as just part of the game,

yet,

there seem to be so many games afloat.

How do we choose,

the path,

when Frost spoke of least resistance,

how do we now return to his wall,

to decide just why we did

venture upon that side of the story,

argument, debate, cathartic

uprising in the mind.

Sit alone among the same,

sipping coffee,

a little tease of Guatemala,

here in my hometown,

where I can pretend,

by the click of simple keys,

I am going to take on a personal sojourn,

today is only one of many,

Sunday morning ambience,

leaves my soul with choice,

passion, desire, wants,

I want this today,

just let me figure it out on my own,

relax, sip, glance,

a sweet smile inside remains pensive,

those around need not know.