In The Throes

It’s Thursday morning

Or so my broken watch face says

A neon mermaid’s in the throes of a flickering death

Barista’s a little wired and her hair is a mess

She looks me up and down

Assessing me for some kind of threat

She says

You looking for trouble

You could find it today

And I say

I’m looking for a grande non-fat eggnog latte

She says sit there

She’s pointing to a threadbare velvet armchair

Her red gloved hands conjuring steam

Out of the dull gleam of the copper espresso machine

Coffee comes when it comes

There’s nothing else to say

Just engines humming down a highway

Near the ruins of a Starbucks cafe

On the corner of Baseline and Broadway

Friday evening

Like a zeppelin across the sky

Dreamily I find myself drifting by her

I long to see her again

My offering to her a stolen fountain pen

As the noble Flatirons succumb to dusk

I just might ask

Yeah I just might ask her name

Or just sit here

In the shadow of an unlit chandelier

Watching as she weaves her dance

To a symphony of cogs and gears

And we are safe

Come what may

Distant engines on a highway

Rumble the ruins of a Starbucks cafe

On the corner of Baseline and Broadway

Another loop in time finds me back on Saturday

I tell her I have no way to pay

She says it’s okay

I haven’t seen cash in a while

Then she takes my heart with her smile

We sit down

On a sinking chaise lounge

You have to admire her steely grace

She’s got a little protection

Quietly placed behind the counter

Hope come when it comes

Then wanders on its way

I wonder what we could build on a better day

Out of the ruins of this Starbucks cafe

On the corner of Baseline and Broadway

On the corner of Baseline and Broadway

On the corner of Baseline and Broadway