With the blatant
Guess work
Of a my
First chemistry
Set
The girl
In the denim jacket
Reaches for
Creamers,
And sweeteners,
And sugars.

First one
Then another
And then the first again.

Each time
Tasting her
Iced-coffee
To see
If it is just right.

A child cries in the corner.

Her father tries to console
Her screams.

I laugh to myself
As I wonder if her
Coffee didn't turn out just right.

The girl in the jacket
Is still
Mixing
And tasting.

She has pretty auburn hair.

Across the street,
The railroad crossing
Sign swings down.
Crying out a
Familiar
Ding, ding,
Ding, ding.

A group of graduate
Students
Discuss the complexities of art
Over a yellow pad
And some chai lattes.

"There's more to it than that,"
The oldest one says,
His voice raised as he stands.

I take a sip of my coffee
And look to the counter.
The baristas here
Don't smile on Saturdays.

The cute one makes a mocha,
While the other takes an old man's
Order.

The girl in the denim
Walks toward her seat,
A backpack in hand.

The crossing gate still chimes.
Ding, ding,
Ding, ding.

I debate adding some
sweetener
To my coffee,
But remember
I like it black.

I debate
Discussing the
Complexities of art

But decide I like
it
simple.

The crossing gate
Continues to ring
Ding, ding.

I like it better
Here during
The week, when
The baristas
Remember to
Smile.