the day starts with shirley
who comes in just after eight
for her 20oz chai
"what kind of milk?"
"doesn't matter"
punches her own coffee card
tells me about her puppy
kayla is next her hair and
makeup always perfect
about as nice a landlady as
one can have in a town like this

from there it's a constant
stream of people
who i watch out for and
who don't know i'm doing it

janice lives alone and thinks
people are stealing her money
doesn't understand
the tests her doctors want
she can't remember
what she always orders
it's a turkey club sandwich no bacon
on toasted oatmeal regular chips no pickle
a to go box for the leftovers
and some kind of chocolate treat in a bag
because she only eats when
she comes in here

two weeks ago
i accidentally switched
barb's 12oz soy chai
with someone else's
12oz whole milk chai
it wasn't enough dairy
to give her a problem
in fact she didn't seem
to remember it
but i made her another for free

nic stopped for his afternoon coffee
didn't laugh at anything just stared
blankly into space and said he
thought he was getting sick
had too many things to finish
the day before when i was waving
to him from the parking lot
so i took my dog to the
back door of his office and
we barked until he came out
patted us both on the head
and said he felt better

we're all creatures of habit
like mckenna who arrives
like clockwork
between one thirty and two
tuesday through saturday
leans on my bake case while
i count my tips and add random
ingredients to different drinks
in a reckless attempt
to break up the monotony
and he drinks them all
like clockwork
no matter how bad they are

rita doesn't smile since she broke her hip
in fact i haven't seen her since
walt got sick and he and joan
moved upstate to be closer to their son
i worry about something happening to ray
who will take care of rita?
whose laugh used to echo off the walls
and fill the place up
pat's smoking again and it turns out
he has congenital heart failure
gail had a fall, a stroke and
suddenly died

i make the same dumb jokes
only a few people smile at
i sing to myself
and people point it out

karen sits in her motorized wheelchair
ice and snow dripping from the wheels
onto the scratched, muddy floor
and tells me i'm pretty and funny
and have a beautiful voice and
i look at karen, her head tilted to
the side and spit hanging from her
buck teeth and wonder why such a
wonderful funny girl with a heart of gold
had to have the body she's stuck in

why life is ****
and why i'm trying
i swear i'm trying
fighting
for something
i don't know what

why we fight
why we try
to make the world
a better place
when nothing can really change
any of these dismal facts

it's time
to face some things
and move on

it's time
to let go
of what hurts

i am
who i am
and i am not
who i was

i am
human
i am not
who you
wanted me
to be

and it's time
to figure out
why
it still hurts

why i'm
crying

why i can't
let go

it's time
to remember

to become
fully who i
am and not
who i learned
to be in
self defense

with eyes
watching me

but i've never been so
scared of feeling better

there were things
we wouldn't do
neither for love
nor for money

but what about when
we have to chose
for love or
for money?

WAKE UP!
IT'S FOUR A.M.!
YOU NEED TO
GET OUT THERE!
SMILE AT PEOPLE
YOU ARE AN ADULT!
AND YOU HAVE
BILLS TO PAY!
R E S P O N S I B I L I T Y

i miss you
i haven't seen you
in weeks
maybe months

we grow up
and it's no longer
whole weekends
spent at ease
but phone calls
snatched after work

**** you
adulthood

and we still play pretend
call each other different names
but these are different days
and far worse growing pains

WAKE UP!
YOU HAVE
BILLS TO PAY!
PEOPLE WHO YOU
DON'T CARE ABOUT
TO IMPRESS!

**** this
******* life who demands
we chose money
over love.

i guess i figured by
twenty years old i would
be the girl with
the band and not
the girl in the corner
behind three crockpots
and a cash box
dancing alone

but that's my favorite
part so far of being twenty
that by now i know
i am who i am
and i don't have to be who
i once wanted to be

sunset flickers across the
road and off the telephone
wires as once again
boredom sets in

maybe not my favorite
part because i hate this
but i figure it's comforting
even if i have to lie to myself

i also figured i would
be in love by now
and not
just lonely

on the other hand
i never realized
that i've always
been lonely

a lonely that
stays the same
regardless of who
i'm with

regardless of who
is under my feet
regardless of how
i spend my weekends

raised in a habitat that
did not tolerate the
concept of evolution
as being a possibility

but isn't that part of
carving my own way?
realizing that
i have changed

and i guess growing up
growing old
is the hardest thing
i'll ever do

there are thousands of things
i want to say and i can't
find even one way
to say one thing

so sometimes i tamp
them down and mix
them with syrupy sweet
sludge in my mug

and other times i remember
bits and pieces of them and
write them on scraps of paper
and abandon them

lost and found
whatever is shoved
into the bottom of that
cardboard box

was only lost
never found

nobody knows where
they come from or
where they will go
after the lost and found

lost and found
waiting
the miscellaneous
and i

i'm not impervious to the fact that
if the universe allows
i will grow old and die one day
i know that my skin will draw back from itself
the way picasso drew on canvas
and vines and creases will work their way
into my once fair and smooth skin
but when i go i want long flowing white hair
that brushes my back gentle as a feather
and lingers behind me like a second goodbye
hair that i can twirl into knots absentmindedly
an braid while bored in church
i want ink stains on my hand from the spilled
ink of writing poetry and stories
notebooks filled with the words that came
out of the sharp movements of my hands
and my hands
i want hands soft but worn
like my mother's favorite winter coat
i want hands that have held and let go
i want hands that know what the hell they're doing
i want toenails painted the most obnoxious
shade of red and mascara packed on like a
suitcase going on a trip to heaven
i want to be that old lady with the cats
because, let's face it, we all know i'm already
that old lady with the cats
they'll be named names from literature and plays
and i'll hope their names match their counterparts
but if they don't i'll love them anyways and
hold them with these hands that will have held
onto so many things before
when i go i want to have lived
and i want to have lived really really good

(there are three grounds
floating on the top of my coffee
it's too late at night to be
drinking this coffee)

i'm just kind of
irritated is all

spending too much time
with myself gets to me
but other people get
to me more

my friends could tell you i hate
touching butter
surprises
and kisses
three things which tend to be
jarring and unsanitary

they could also tell you
they hate your guts

(i remove the grounds
with my spoon and swoosh
the coffee around in circle
so it hits the sides)

after that stunt you pulled
where you pulled me
too close for my comfort
and kissed my cheek

we're not counting that as
my first kiss because it was
not funny or sweet or
any other sentimental epithet

it was
irritating

(the candle is burning
low but i don't mind
i've got all night
to tap out my mind)

and you can only imagine
how pleased i was to find
a very neatly wrapped
package with my name
all wrapped up in ribbons and
a bow the day after my birthday

i didn't open it for
a whole day out of spite
put it in the lost and found
until you moved it back

it was actually a nice
useful gift which you
presumably spent
$40 or so on

which only added
to my irritation

(its getting cold so i start
chugging it but lukewarm
coffee chugged down isn't the
most satisfying way to drink it)

so i wrote a very
passive aggressive
thank you note about
how nice friendship was

and had a dream that you
demanded to know why
i picked someone over you
i didn't have a good answer

(and there's the bottom of
the mug with two more
coffee grounds stuck in the
pocket drop you never can get)

i get ****** when
i'm irritated

and i'm usually somewhat
irritated with you