Uptown cafe, the forgotten cafe,
serves men in plaid and work boots,
in quiet morning light.
Blinds drawn and decorum raw,
it sits as the hide-out for locals
who emerge before noon.
I, sitting in noiseless chatter,
wonder how many have stared
at my Truman sweatshirt.
Undisguised.
Waiting for the phone line to clear
to pay with credit card,
my hand shakes from my 5th cup.
Jittering away to my own turf.
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1 comment:
Very nice. I like it. Who knew you were so talented?
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