The Bean Scene

  • Sun
    Jan 15
    11:30 am -
    12:00 pm
  • Mon
    Jan 16
    2:30 pm -
    3:00 pm

Walked in for a coffee, some tall cup of politically correct blend from Sumatra or the like.  Noted my books were still on the shelf, only slightly riffled.  Oh, well.  Walked home with a package of Caroline’s shoes in one hand, coffee in the other.  Crossed Court Street.

My mother is still at the kitchen table after finishing the morning dishes.  She is drinking her coffee and smiling as Hank Williams sings on the radio, the immortal Hank Williams.

Sometimes I drink coffee

And feel enthusiasm and write

A few things.  Indivisible, untouched

By sin, wise.  Of course, I

Know what that means.

There was transportation to be

Considered.  I walked home,

But stopped for a donut and

Some coffee.  I read the

News.  A beautiful pigeon

With glowing lavender neck

Feathers strutted on the sidewalk.

He wouldn’t move or fly away

But almost seemed to be asking

To be picked up from the ground

And stroked, spoken to and loved.

I thought that was strange at the time.