In The Silent Cafe

This body sits alone in silent recall,

the voices, the activity, the monstrous sound

of espresso being ground,

for the hurried and swaggered consumer.

Kissaten Scenery

Steady rain blankets the plaza
And shrouds late afternoon with early night.
A torrential downpour of fine droplets
That deceptively make no sound
Above the wind of the winter typhoon.
Only the plod of boots is heard
As they splash through frigid puddles.

The eyes of gods’ down trodden faces
Hover over their soaked leather soles,

This Town

 

Artwork by R. Rensberry

What this town needs
is a trapdoor,
a blackhole with a coffee shop;

Coffee

A hiss of steam, the clanking cups
The bustle of a coffee shop.