sitting at the cafe
caressing piquant coffee
a decadent slice of cake
half eaten
it is essential
I do not finish the coffee
before the cake
the cafe was crowded
my mind was crowded too
swarming with thoughts and ideas
napkins and empty cigarette packages
the usual evidence of my fervent tirades
but the napkins here are linen
I looked up
just as you entered
I’ve seen you here,
at the Mediterranean Cafe
many times
and I wonder who you were
what you did in your life
what were your passions
I didn’t have the luxury of knowing
my grandparents
so age is an enigma to me
