Cafe View

I sit sipping tall bitter coffee,

watching the world

through store-front window.

Storm hangs heavy, dark in the west,

parking meters like erect soldiers

guarding spaces beneath cars.

Folks in ones and twos hurry by,

smiling as if this a play.

To my left some arabic language

pours from dark lips of slight stallions,

preppy woman scribbles

in a cloth-bound book,

flocks of young lesbians

with their chic sheared hair,

smokers across the room

inhaling hungrily between espresso,

esquire business man looks tight

in this loud, loose place.

Bright chalky art

on torn carboard-box panels,

red neon clock, 12:30,

clink of glasses and rush of steam and slow violin on tape.

Storm creeps over and the world

bright even though gray shadows.

Rain falls lightly, umbrellas appear like magic.

I blink back tears:

this, all this,

more beautiful

than I can say.

[copyright 1990, Theresa Jarosz Alberti; do not reproduce without permission]