I lost myself in the stories in the newspapers,
and the coffee he poured me because he thought
I needed something,
but I did not order a thing.
I lost myself in the fuschia flower in her hair,
over her left ear, but,
my left ear didnt have a flower, and,
come to think of it, it probably never would.
I drank my coffee, black, because I didn't know any better,
and watched the lovers fight over buttered crossiants and
cinammon lattes with whipped cream and chocolate syrup.
My knuckles felt like typewriters, but,
for once in my life I wasn't writing.
I was hardly thinking,
I was hardly speaking even.
I lost myself in the low music and guitar
coming from inside the cafe
because, unlike me, it was beautiful
and soft, and lovely.
He poured me more coffee even though
I didnt want it, and,
gave me a crossiant, "on the house."
Who would think to give,
an observer something lovely?
But I had accepted it because
mother always said
"be kind."
I lost myself in silver eyes,
or, were they golden?
I hardly remember but I lost
myself in them.
And I didn't know why.
I fell in love at a coffee shop
where, I counted change,
like quarters and dimes and
anything to give him something
worth keeping.
I fell in at a coffee shop because
life was beautiful and people didn't
know me here at all so,
they couldn't follow me home.
