A coffee shop

This is a poem about a girl sitting in a coffee shop, then a boy appears...no, not a boy...a young man. His name, is...

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1. A coffee shop

 

January 29, 2013

A coffee shop

 

Brighton, England or Brussels, Belgium maybe

Biting winter, budding spring

Significant, yes

But who knows?

 

All that was certain,

A coffee shop

 

 

Not just any coffee shop

A packed one

 

People

All shades and tints of brown and cream

Mimicking the drinks in their cups

 

My cup was brown

Tinted lightly with steamed milk

Laced with spices and brown sugar

 

My laptop open

Untouched

As my eyes people watched

My mind dancing on the bridge of elsewhere

Child-like spirit twirling

 

Mundane papers break the lines of my table

Where does one line begin where the other ends?

 

I look down

Look at nothing

Not at the deadlines

Not at the red ink

Nor the blue

Not at the critical cursives

Not at the tables and graphs

Not at the transparent neon yellow

                        Green, orange

                        Marring the bold typeface underneath

 

Simply look

 

Eyes glazed over

Barely breathing

            Or taking in huge amounts

Whichever

Can’t tell the difference anyway

 

Jaw slack

Small, soft soulful hands

            Limp in lap

One ankle

tucked behind the other

 

Maybe a lip bite in anticipation of a thought

Fleeting to and fro

Tempting a smile

A laugh

 

And then

 

A boy

A handsome boy

Tall, strong, with kind eyes

Not a boy

            But a man

A young man

Tall, strong, with kind eyes

 

No one takes notice

Not even me

            Not at first

Too many coffee cups steaming

            They’re attention seekers

Too many children of weary mothers, fathers

            With nowhere to say no

Too many elders patiently waiting

            For death? Really?

            At the hands of a book?

Too many people

            Shades and tints of brown and cream

            Vying for each other’s attention

Marked papers and pried laptops

Which line begins where the other ends?

 

He sits

Right there

Filling my bubble

 

His warm cologne

Plugs my nostrils pleasantly

Wraps a hand around my throat

            Gently

Coaxing me, alert

 

No more muted people

No more nothingness to see

No more twirling on the bridge

No glaze

No limp

No tuck

 

Just him

 

And me

 

Him and me and the people

            Brown and cream

 

He smiles a laugh

            It somehow seeps through

His teeth are chalk bright

His lips soft pink petals

His jaw strong, defined

His nose like a button found

 

His eyes like coffee

            Warm

            Filling

            Sweet

            Fresh

            Lifting

            Sweeping

            Pounding

            Biting

            Gasping

            Sighing

                        Tempting

                        Moaning

                                    Ever so slightly

 

His lips part and close

Part and close

Framing the words, “hello”

 

My lips echo his

Clumsy

“hi”

 

Make up for your social blunder

Attempt a friendly wave

           Manage to smack him in the face

                          How horrifying

 

Scramble your apologizes

Fumble your words

Trip, unnecessarily, over your tongue

            As is your forte

 

 

 

It was swift

 

His fingers snapping around my wrist

So lithe

            You never saw it coming

 

Silence

 

His nose grazes my arm

            Where the veins can’t hide

            Where the bones whisper

Inviting in my scent

 

His lips come next

Touch me softly

            Breath catches

            Pulse heightens

            Cold and hot and hot and cold

 

Tongue last

He slips the pink muscle from its chalk stick cages

            So sleek

            A python would be envious

Taste buds commenting now

On my skin

            Does she taste like chocolate?

            Like nutmeg?

            Like coffee?

 

Perhaps

But then

           Her lips might

 

At least,

That’s what they tell you

Cold and hot and hot and cold and

 

No one seems to notice

Too many people

Too many books

Too many voices

Too many cups

too much coffee

 

It was a kiss she will always remember

It was a kiss he will never forget

 

Soft lips on soft lips

His hands curled in hers

Fire blazing in their hearths

 

Pools of heat redden their faces

            Sound their hearts

            Pound their veins

Pools of heat

            Close their eyes

            Rob their ears

                        hear only each other’s name

Pools of heat

            Smoother inhibitions

            Temper humiliation

            Stoke their passions

 

THE kiss

            It was

                        Indeed.

 

 

 

~Zelezele

 

 

 

© Copyright 2013-2014 Zelezele

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