she always
eats her pastry
first,
and then
her yogurt-
the one with the
mushy apricots
inside.

I take away her
empty plate,
and leave
her
to her cappuccino;
at the same table,
at the same time of day,
every day.

people come
and go,
then come
and go
some more,

but among the
ashtrays
and all the
spilled drinks
there’s beauty
in her
consistency.

at the same table,
at the same time of day,
like that
one ******* tree
you can always see
in your head,
but don’t know
the age nor origin;

just a
tree
that you will
always
*******
remember.

at the same table,
at the same time of day;

every day.