On a blue agave current,
Drifts the August night,
With the scent of summer's sweet perfume,
And allure of firelight,
Seated at the holy table,
Where the old souls used to pray,
Now their spirits come to life,
At the Anyway Cafe

Angels dancing with their shadows,
Waiting to be loved,
And if you ever get too close,
They'll be pulled by the reigns above,
Vessels for a melody,
In The Future we rejoice,
Echoing the history,
Of a man with the golden voice.

“you having a bad week bri?”
hilary peers over the glass partition
between me and reality
“me? a bad week?
how can it be a bad week
when it’s only monday?”

but the truth is
it’s usually not
a great week
here for me
when my life is how it is
their lives are how they are

kayla had her baby
before christmas
haven’t seen sam
in forever
jennifer still doesn’t like
dressings or sauces
but she doesn’t call in her
usual every day anymore

still getting calls every morning
what’s the soup special?
barb drinks the same
cappuccinos as always
still can’t see properly but
she’s still trying
jim and dorothy like it when
i make their sandwich
because they say i’m the only
one who gets the chips right
nicadamus just didn’t
show up one day and
nobody quite knows
where he went

now mckenna walks
around the counter and
puts his arms around me
because i’m his girl
and him?
he’s my whole world

i bring mint brownies to the
brewery for the older couple
i smile when children smear
their grubby fingers across
the bake case that was just
cleaned and pretend it doesn’t
bother me to fish uneaten
coleslaw shards out of the drain

ray passed away
in july and nobody
told me because they
thought i knew
last week i find out rita
has gone on too
and the feeling in my
stomach sinks
into relief that she’s not
without him anymore

susan stops by sometimes
for lunch on her way to
see janice who is now
in the nursing home for good
and it’s better for her
but she doesn’t understand

the same faces come through
but a little tickle in the back
of my brain tells me some
of them haven’t been in
i can’t help myself from hoping
they’re all okay

new faces appear
i tell myself not to get
attached to them but after
weeks of making the same
items over and over just
the way they want
it gets hard not to see others
as an extension of my routine

the world is spinning
at an alarming rate
my heart is still running
at a declined pace

“well, breezer
between me and you”
maureen says
(she calls me breezer
and i call her a salve
to my cold 7am soul)
“i don’t blame you
you can’t stay here forever
and it’s a hard job
i couldn’t do it”

my mother tells me i’m not
going anywhere
maureen tells me there are
better things out there for me

and i tell myself i can
steep fulfillment into
complete strangers’
cups of tea

what i was saying to hilary
was that past a certain age
nobody tells you you’re
doing a good job
“we do in my office”
she says with a
who-hurt-you
expression

maybe in offices it works that way
but maybe i couldn’t force myself
into a plate glass cage where
telephones never stop
ringing and “coffee”
comes out of a k-cup

indecision
grinds its teeth
and i find myself clapping my
hands over the register and saying

“you’re doing your best!
you got this, c’mon
let’s get some espresso in you
and you’ll feel better
you can do anything
even get through today”

when i look in the mirror
i hear myself screaming
that all i have to do
is get through today
words echo through my
brain that i will get
through this
that i am smart
and beautiful and change
begins by knowing i am
worthy of better things

but i also realize it’s easier
to drown out the doubt
when you hear it from
someone else
so whoever and
wherever you are
if you need this affirmation, take it
pass it on, even

keep grinding, girl
you’re doing a great job

If my life was measured in coffee rings.
And coffee drips, spilling from the sides,
I’d live for eternity.

Your lips are like a work of art...
Soft, decadent, a lustful sin.

I never realized how sweet it is,
to be loved by you.

Don’t make me make you fall into desire.
Read these words and think of me,
and I will live in your mind,
forever.

Sitting on the beach on the coldest of days,
Winter chills which skims across my face and hands,
Watching the waves rising up and down,
Beating against the shore,
Roaring against the wind,
The smell of open sea rises across the land,

Birds are fleeting above my head,
Glimpse of the sun is peeking through the clouds,
My partner is drawing characters in the sand,
I run my hands over the seashells and tiny rocks,
I explore a combination of sharp edges and wet stone,

A misty gloom appears along the coast,
The sound of seagull’s squarking and dogs barking echo’s in the distance,

My partner lights a cigarette and sits across me smiling,
We hear the pitter-patter of a greyhound dog walking towards us,
The greyhound greets us with a curious gesture,
We welcome the dog with open arms and stroke their furry face to say hello
The grey-hound pondering between us,
Excitingly moving around,
We hear the sound of people talking in the background,
The grey-hound wonders off to accompany their owner,

A shift of temperature occurs in the atmosphere,
I feel the cold cracking my lips,
My partner begins to roll a spliff,
I contemplate about the warmth,
I propose we hit the Carrot Café along our way,
My partner agrees as he smokes his doobie
We get up and set upon our next journey.

The air smells of ground coffee beans and freshly brewed tea.
A girl sits by a large window that, sadly,
Doesn’t provide much of a scenery.
She sees her reflected self,
Her glassy eyes staring back at themselves.
She sees the reflection of the strangers around her,
Their hurried moments of affection,
Their lipstick-stained coffee cups,
Their involuntary displays of vexation.
They see their mirrored selves,
Their idle chatter,
Their fake smiles,
Their forced laughter.
It’s like watching a reality show,
Watching the lives of other people,
On a single glass screen.  
Little do they realize,
That they’ve been watching themselves,
Watching their own lives become other people’s lives.
On the other side of the window,
Passersby peer through the tinted glass,
Into the lives of these strangers.
A woman with her lover but not her husband,
A group of teenage boys trying to woo a pretty barista,
Two college girls trading ***** secrets,
A girl sitting all alone by the window,
Staring into space.
It’s like watching a reality show,
Watching people go on about their lives,
Seeing life without actually being a part of it.

Half calf with a twist
As the line stands
Thinking she is a superimposed *****
Foregoing on

Barista
Waist like an elastic band
Hair waving hello in it’s pinkness
Homeless man coming in
Screaming
Obscenities
Something about Romans and Euripides
As if in a round about
Circle the store like a hovered cloud
Then out again

The rocker dude sipping his tea
The older man in the corner
Who constantly leaves
Wandering where one can’t see
Trailing behind his laptop and keys
Somewhere in this madness loop
Latte’s and Macchiato's brew
And I
With a child's flair
Take it all in, while I throw back my hair

if i get the job
as a dishwasher
at the cafe or
the nursing home

i might get my
weirdly
tragically beautiful
cinderella story
after all