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SCENE IN A CAFE
I went to the café last night
You know? The one on the corner.
The dull murmur of conversation and the sound of flying cups clinking
on their
respective saucers flooded the dimly lit room
(until the tape stopped)
The girl working there went into the back to rewind it.
When she emerged, she asked me in a friendly voice,
/What can I get for you?”
Just an espresso.
/What size, tall or grande?
Oh...
Espresso?”
Yeah.
/Espresso!” she called back to the man behind all the machines.
She turned to me.
/You can go to a table,
we’ll bring it out to you.”
I sat in a far corner so that I could see the whole café.
The majority of the customers donned berets.
They sat alone at round tables with wiry legs,
and two chairs apiece
Enveloped in the steam from their drinks,
But mostly concealed by the steam that snuck out from vents under their
tables.
They sat clicking away at their laptops,
The elite cradled palm pilots in one hand,
Poking decisively at them with the other hand,
Which was almost always free
The coffee was just for effect.
The guy behind the coffee machines
Carried my drink to the table
On its tiny saucer.
I imagined his name must have been Rock.
In contrast to the cup,
The man was enormous.
He held it in the palm of his hand
On the end of his long hairy arms.
His head was shaved
And he wore a red t-shirt tied around it like a bandana.
/Thanks.”
A man in his mid-twenties with torn sweatpants and a beaten spiral notebook
wandered into the café.
He did not buy anything,
Rather, he strolled right to the center of the floor,
Where he sat down lotus-style.
The whole café stopped and stole two or three glances in unison
at him.
From the bag he carried on his back
He produced a pair of bongos
And he began to recite couplets from his notebook,
Popping out a beat on the bongos.
Rock folded his arms and cast an unpleasant glance at the poet
He made his way over to that part of the café.
He said something to the figure on the floor.
The poet sighed.
He trudged out the glass doors
And everyone returned to what they were doing.
- Mike Freeman
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