My Saturdays belong
to a quaint Parisian cafe.
I only have to think about carrying coffees
and baguettes
and they pay me for it.
It's the cheapest therapy I've had.

I've come to know some of the regulars.
Some days I wish
to tell them I love them
and I don't quite know why.
I suspect they remind me
in some part of myself,
or how I wish to be.

An almost elderly lady
always comes alone.
Her hair still retains some of her blonde youth.
She orders two very weak flat whites
and sits for hours,
writing letters to distant loves
and reads the paper.
I clear her cup
and she smiles
with both her lips and her eyes.
She makes you feel like your job
means something more than it probably does.
I bring her a second coffee,
a very weak flat white.

In the afternoons
a couple comes in for coffee.
She is quiet,
the artistic type,
and wears their son in a sling.
A sweet little thing with cherubic cheeks.
The father is a darling man
with a softness many men resist.
I watch the way his eyes sparkle
when he tells me of his sons milestones.
I make an effort to see them smile,
bring them water on hot days
or just talk.
But sometimes I leave them be,
watch them from a far,
and let myself be swept up in their love,
before they leave.

My Saturdays belong
to a quaint French cafe
with dark timber floors
and French antiques.
I haven't quite mastered the art of conversation
but I'm adept in the science of smiling
and that's enough to get me by
for now.

I need,
You need,
And we all,
Comfort it is,
We plead!

Satisfied are you,
When it comes your way,
Cheerio!

I, too have found Comfort!
Cheerio!

I hold my breath in darkness

Crack
Tick.  Tick.  Tick.

And let it go.
He must have come a long way

Tick. Tick. Tick.
Click.

He must have sensed
The only warmth laid out for him

Creeeak
Tick... Tick...

Acrid loss hangs low in the air
Damp claws ***** my toes

Inhale

And he drinks
Come to redeem blood lost

Silence
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Creeeak
Click.

My foot runs over the aging scabs

Exhale

I sink back into slumber

"No service here my dear friend"
Looks upon and shook his head
"Hello and welcome"
I'll greet your presence
Stupid whining little peasants
"This coffees too hot, it's too cold"
**** my life you **** *******!
Just deep breaths don't let it sink
I'll pour my love into your drink
Customers aren't always right
The anger stirs throughout my night
Hospitality has driven me mad
I'm a slave to this sick dark land

Golden light spills out,
The only mess in this place,
I won't have to clean.