In my corner spot, one stool, one table
two eyes behind glass, peer
book in hand a topic most grand
butter blended history on a palate
of mind, taste through recorded time
Alone in the cafe of my thoughts
a plate of one doughy croissant
a tea for one exotically done
crossing legs, curling into pages
forgetting I’m not the only one
Eyes lift briefly, peeking just above
pages cracked, make eye contact
with a him across coffee-scented air
for a moment in yellow light, we idly stare
but was it me, or was it the picture
On the front cover of the book Butter
— it is pretty tantalizing after all…
I am merely a face in the background
or does he see me as I see him
— a curiosity in creamy-smooth skin?
The talented S. Francis of Sailorpoet was inspired by a couple poems I wrote with a cafe setting a while back and wanted to collaborate a bit on the topic of strangers in cafes through some response writing.
His poem, which is what my poem above responds to, can be found here. While each can be read stand-alone, they do kind of complete each other.
WP is like a giant cafe sometimes, strangers glancing across the void, pondering each other, knowing only what we can know through what we are presented. There is so much behind the scenes, am I right? 🙂