coffee shop poems

–~”d8b”~–

Here we go.   Inexorably and inevitably a blog with poems is going to find itself, with clatter and comfort, with notebook and a table – facing out or facing in – and slightly music, traffic and people in just the right blend – busy or quiet – in a 21st century, most leisurely of requiescence, corporate-proliferated, perfectly-formed environment coffee shop.   Oh, the ignominy; oh, the infamy ‘… infamy, they’ve all got it in for me’.   And yet – clnk, chnk, clnck!

–~”d8b”~–

 

                eyebrows raise as coving
                reggae lingers     then kicks in
                neat rhombus of sunlight
                unconcerned across her cheek
                the blind rolls down
                I’ll just read a chapter
                fixed lashes travelling
                light now across
                           collar bones
                between white collars

                                ~o~

                C reads far better than me
                she reads history as it happens
                she is the captain speaking
                she knows what time it is
                           in other countries
                she knows there is no airport
                           in Glasgow
                (she also bullshits)

                I miss all this however
                I see only peoples’ posture
                contrary to their eyes
                           and little else

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                     safe under
                     the brolly
                     with alternate
                     large steps
                     she turns away
                     from her Mum’s hand
                     and takes large
                     bites out of the air

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                     RENAISSANCE

                     Starbucks green
            and brown coffee highlights
            awkward in the hotel lobby
                     blue spotlights
                     on white columns
                     but big enough
            to patrol around and loudly
                     talk it is

                     again

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                   electric piano coffee
                                   shop horns chill break

                                   lights car not sure where to go

                                   above building opposite
                                   office block floats low
                                   and fills the sky

                                   tabla

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                              JJ Cale
                                   in a coffee shop?

the wide windows
lights coming on early evening piled snow car park indicating turning white
       snow on the hills
a girl leans back on a table looking the other way looking at her phone her
       leggings show the landscape of thighs hips belly while her friend buys
       a coffee a young mother walks the length of the counter restless child carried
       low on her body looking for toilets

this all ought to be beautiful but I need to sit –
because when sitting I should just sit not look for calm-solution
when looking for calm-solution I am not yet sitting
when I see myself looking for calm-solution then I have started sitting
when I look for myself looking for calm-solution I have stopped sitting again

when writing I should just write and not anticipate what and bons mots
when I pre-structure my writing I am not writing I usually sit and stare and
       don’t write much
but neither is writing an automatic flow of words or images at its best it finds
       its own form
I find its form in its writing in writing it it emerges through-amid as the
       crowd of thoughts that are my life but
before the writing is ready I am still alone in the crowd defensive and aggressive
       and not seeing
the beauty in front of me

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                                        he Had

                                                a coffee
                                  a heated sandwich
                                  a coconut iced bun
                                  a packet of crisps
                                  a bottle of water £8.89 and
                                  ‘can I have a knife and
                                  fork, please’ but

                                  he was on the phone
                                  all the time then
                                  the tray was cleared
                                  away

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                coffee shop
                                     no –

                     not the leggings which wrap
                                her –

                     … the hundred people making their way
                                in the street
                     when a hundred pigeons flap
                                across the sky
                                disappear
                     and then return to the roof
                                they came from

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                                   coffee shop

                                the first day of Spring through
                                the grey sky a cluster

                                of birds circling high
                                but never forming

                                china clunks and voices launching
                                in one tone finishing

                                in another     then
                                chair scrapes

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                      coffee shop

                                     see people
            and become close to
                      those still looking
                      in a thousand
                      different ways
                      through the window

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                                                 how beautiful
                                                       the frizzy ringlet hair
                                                       held in the swept-overhead

                                                       waiting
                                            with a waiting smile
                                            while the mother took her photo
                                            of the child
                                            then smiling with her
                                                       braces

                                            as she places the sandwich
                                   and steps away surveying
                                            the other tables
                                   with her contented old-lady
                                            mouth

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                                two fat ladies
                                chk klak klip

                on one half of the table
                                by the window
                two skinny lattes wait
                the folded newspapers
                                definitely wait
                while the scones are loaded
                                marg, no          butter
                                raspberry         bottom lip out
                                ‘pop’ blackberry jam ‘pop’
                                small pots dainty fingers
                                ser              vie              ettes
                sitting back the plates are held
                and looking down the road
                at something they chew

                in unison

                                –p0p–

                                all the while

                and after they have gone
                on the other half of the table
                                the student
                her shopping all done beside her
                reads the page of the booklet
                                then writes a paragraph
                                              pen flipped up big letters
                                pink highlight headings
                                pen replaced plap
                satisfaction while the café music
                                snare drums
                                and never reaches
                                the chorus

 

–~”d8b”~–

 

                      how adventitious
                           are our lives:
                      the husband with the oddest blue eyes
                           checks with
                      the wife with ready smile not quite aligned
                           in her face
                      talking with (either set of) parents
                           round-backed
                      but hair-dyed and open-sandaled
                           all elbowed
                      across the table in the
                           coffee shop

                           an event

                      that lasts a lifetime

 

–~”d8b”~–