The eternal hipster surveys the scene
Puts on his bright, usual smile
Saunters in, knows he is seen
Small talk is his forte
He's skilled at witty repartee
There's a nice looker in that blue dress
He walks her way
He's been a loner way too long
He knows he's gotta stay
In the game, in the world, in life
Or else he'll fade into the twilight
Into the murals, forever lost in play

Scarred, scared and worried
He's been at this too long
He liked it better when he was with the ex
But that's an old sad song
He misses his lover
Why does love have to die?
She's gone which is why he's here
Giving it the college try

The blue dress is worn by Amy
He says, "Rick's the name.
Do you live here in Malibu,
Or on the fruited plain?"
She laughs demurely, then looks away
Explains that she's a widow and a local
It's her night to brave the great indoors
It's her date with fate

Indeed it is, the time is now, the evening is still young
There's a restaurant named Geoffrey's,
Would she care to come along?
She would, and she does, so off they go
The aging hipster with the bright smile
This could be a go
Thank God he left the house tonight
He didn't mope around
This has the possibility
Of something very rare and sound

Birthday

A day of sadness and wasted years a poet who
has to pay to be published how pathetic  is that?
We, my companion and I found a restaurant and
for lunch she ate something  African.
I had  a schnitzel that looked as the white meat of
a rat that had taken the pledge lost my appetite.
Instead, I had a double portion of fresh cut salad
followed by a tomato salad with a bit of mozzarella.
I lifted my glass of water saw the eatery  through
tears not shed, the few friends I had in Algarve
have all gone they could not stop in time.
The conversations, wit and bottles of red wine  
kept flowing, it had to stop so I took the bus home.
Now it is only my beloved and I left and every year
I love her more. At night with a heart full of dread
I snuggle up to her, she strokes my somnolent head
until I fall asleep again and sadness drifts away.

You broke me, but that is nothing new.... I knew you had the means to break me when we were almost something.... I had handed you my most prized possession.
I so effortlessly passed myself over, too naive to think about the consequences, or the fact that even though I love you, it didn't mean you loved me.....
I knew you broke me when I was sitting in a restaurant too exhausted to cook, breaking down at the table by myself while watching couples who could have been us laughing and eating.
I knew you broke me when I hated going to bed and staring up at that stupid dull white ceiling in silence, my mind going over everything I might have done wrong.
when sleep came I was finally at peace, but not for long....
I knew you broke me when every morning I dreaded getting up because it meant I had to do another day without you.
I knew you broke me when I hated myself, hated how I looked because maybe if I looked better you would have stayed and chosen me.
hated how I talked, maybe if i used a softer tone? or more stern? you wouldn't have chosen her?
maybe if my eyes were blue? or my hair blonde?
I knew you broke me when I was tearing myself apart because you left....
you broke me, but I already knew you would.

Hold your breath as you deeply dive
Just out beyond the Atlantic tide

There my friend is where you'll find
The thrill of the famous Octopus ride

Swim out fast and don't be late
This ride has only room for eight

Pay in clams if that's what you have
Our 5 Starfish Hotel has the best in Oyster beds

Take a Seahorse ride through Seaweed Pass
You'll barely have time to catch your breath

Enjoy our Sea Garden Restaurant's specialty dish
Of Sandy Bottom Peanut Butter and Jelly Fish

Come for the day, stay for the night
Enjoy the food, enjoy the rides

With casual attire you can come as you are
For the best of times at Atlantis Park

You had set a date and you’re 10 minutes late.
You feel guilty, because you don’t have a reason for it.

You’d rushed in, head down, embarrassed and hot with frustration, only to realize your date isn’t there and she had no idea you were the one so close to being a fool.

You check your phone and realize she'd sent you a message about how she’d been busy, and would arrive about 17 minutes later than expected.
She apologizes, but really you thank her for the inconvenience.

The food had been set ahead of time. A three course meal at a restaurant you’re not familiar with. However, new soup comes steaming out. A meal for two.
You start on your own.
17 minutes late turns into 23 minutes after you’ve arrived, a total of 33 minutes; you feel alone, her soup is sitting there excavating cold with each passing moment. The soup is delicious: you think, and it warms you to know that at least something is right with the world.

Your hesitation in texting her mirrors your shame.
Of course she's not coming, women from photos like hers don't walk into lives like yours...

It isn’t too long after you’re done with the soup that your date comes in.

She’s beautiful beyond expectation.

Everything fantastic about life can describe her, and to you, again, nothing in existence can explain how perfect she is in this moment.
Like a drowning man in an endless ocean, you can’t help but reach out to her with every inch of your soul.

Biting her lip, she looks into your eyes, lost, until the tip of her soul touches yours.

You witness her red-lipped smile like a red rose bloomed.

You smile with grandeur, because it’s the only reflex that reflects your hopes fulfilled.

You stand up and ready her chair for her.

SCENE

Sitting in a crowded restaurant with a table too far to put your elbows on and you wonder if this is how it feels to be well mannered
He smiles, innocent and pure, deceiving your naïve mind
"We've grown apart, it's been months and I still can't sleep, how did you do it so fast?"
He parts his lips like he is going to say something but pauses almost as if it is a death sentence he does not want to give. A pounding on a gavel, a mother gasps in a courtroom, handcuffs fitting too tight.
He says, "Part of growing up is picking and choosing your battles and you just aren't one I want to fight anymore."

I remember how it felt
When I looked at you
Before your eyes met mine,
When I saw you again
After seven (gruesome) years.

It felt very final.
I knew I loved you,
But I kept thinking
All through out lunch,
"This is it. The end all, be all."

The thing is, I knew.
I knew that when I saw you
While I was crossing the street
From the apartment complex to the restaurant, while my heart was exploding
With giddy butterflies, that this was it.
That it was you.
That there wasn't going to be anyone else.
And maybe there never was.

At least, not for me.

I looked at you the same way on Saturday afternoon.
It felt very final.
Even though I felt like there were a thousand sirens going off in my head,
There was one part of my mind that was silent, save for one fact.
That it was you.
That it had always been you.
There never was anyone else.

At least, not for me.

I'm not like you.
We're two very different creatures,
I tried to tell you this after I placed the things
I felt the need to return to you on our bed.
I tried to tell you that you deserve someone like you.
Because you do.
You deserve, at the very least, to be understood.

I am not like you.
I do not have primal, instinctual attraction.
I cannot look at others as though they
Are plausible mates.
I can't do this, because they aren't.
I have you, and only you.

I am not like you.
You, who can set down roots
And make a home out of wherever
Your head rests.

I cannot root myself,
I don't know how to have a home.
I've got wandering in my blood,
My bare feet were made for running away.
I don't know how to make roots.
I don't think I ever knew.

On Saturday (and every day since),
I have looked at you with the same finality that I had when I saw you again for the first time.
The same love.
The same longing to be able to make you my home.
The same remorse and guilt I always feel when I have to get up and leave what I love, because I simply cannot stay.

Because I don't know how to have a home, and it is a fools game to try to make a home out of a person.

I was trying to leave, because people like me don't deserve people like you. People like you, who are good and patient and compassionate, and have hearts made from gold, and souls stitched from clouds. People like you shouldn't spend time on people like me. People like me, who are petty and volatile and selfish, and have broken glass for hearts and souls made out of ash and smoke.

I was trying so hard to do the right thing,
For once.
To be selfless,
For once.
To give you a chance at a better life.

But then, with tears in your eyes,
You asked me to stay.

And I don't know why you would want someone like me to stay. Someone who runs as far as they can, constantly. Someone who can't make the sun come out from behind the clouds.

But when I looked at you,
I hated myself for putting so much dark pain in your bright blue eyes.

So, I looked at you like I've been looking at you. I took in every detail. I took note of every part of your face I had never told you I loved, even though I do. Like the bridge of your nose, or your cheek bones or the way your eyelashes brush against your cheeks when you blink, or how your hair sometimes curls into a swoop on your forehead. Or how your eyebrows are never really all that messed up but you always have at least one hair sticking out of place. Or how your jaw tightens when you're upset and trying to control it, and it makes your chin poke out just a little bit. Or how you flatten your lips into a line when you're thinking, or when you bite them when you're trying not to feel.

Or how your tears made the blue in your eyes brighter, and it reminded me what it was about rain I used to find so beautiful.

I was looking at you, and have been looking at you,
Like it was the last time.
Because you never know when that will come.

So, I was selfish.

And even though I had caused those tears, you asked me to stay.

And I don't know how to stay.
I don't think I ever did.

But for you, I could learn.

Wishing for breakfast
before ascending
on high pass road..
Need for nourishing
alertness on winding curves..
The restaurant appeared
in a sudden way..
Anticipating
happiness in satiation..
Then during breakfast
a realization
of happiness fulfilled
but only for this moment..
Temporary
not to be held
but a portion and pointing
to that happiness
Permanent
I am...

Sam the dog and Pearl the cat
Were sitting on the wall
They do it every day
So it isn't strange at all

They have little conversations
Which only they can understand
They talk about their little quirks
And none of them are planned

Pearl goes first of course
And Sam lets her have her say
He knows better than to interrupt
He learnt his lesson the other day

“I scratch my scratching post
And I chase my clockwork mouse
I leave my loving mistress
Little gifts all around the house

I eat all of my food
Then I use my litter tray
Or sometimes one of her slippers
When she looks the other way

I sleep lots throughout the day
Until about half past seven
Then I think it’s playtime
Until well after eleven

Each day she fills my water bowl
But I don't use it for a drink
I prefer to use the kitchen tap
While balancing on the sink

I like to lodge my face in things
And my mistress gets fed up
The other day I got it stuck
Inside a paper cup

I've got a lovely padded bed
For when I need a sleep
But I sleep in the bathroom hand-basin
It’s nice and cool and deep

I love it on a Tuesday
My mistress gets her magazine
I sit my bottom on it
It’s pages sight unseen

One of my favourite pastimes
Is scratching on the door
I make her think I want to go out
Then I curl up on the floor

I put on my needy face
When I smell nice food
My mistress never shares with me
How can she be so rude?

I like to go upstairs
On the bed I like to lie down
Nestled in a furry ball
On a fluffy dressing gown

Sometimes I hide in cupboards
Then suddenly jump out
My mistress tells me off for startling her
You probably hear her shout

I sit on the laptop keyboard
While my owner tries to chat
To her human friends on Facebook
I soon put a stop to that”

Sam now has his say at last
And looks straight at Pearl, the cat
“You think you get into mischief,
Well I can better that

I love going into town
Though it isn’t very far
My favourite thing is the lovely breeze
On my head out of the window of the car

Sometimes my mistress brings me a doggy bag
From her favourite restaurant
It contains all of my favourite things
She knows exactly what I want

Last week she took me in the car
Allegedly to the park
It was really a trip to the vets for ‘the snip'
I was totally kept in the dark

I do a vanishing act at bath time
I always hide under the bed
So I get taken out to the garden
And end up getting hosed-down instead

Whenever my belly is scratched
No matter where we are
I lay on my back with my legs in the air
As if playing an air-guitar

I love rolling in smelly stuff
Much to my owner’s dismay
It's one of my favourite pastimes
I do it almost every day

I'm the master of the head-tilt
When I smell nice food on the table
I sometimes get some scraps
But not from greedy aunt Mabel

Odd times I chase my tail
I chase it round and round
Then I spin around a couple of times
Before exhaustedly lying down

I keep eating grass
When my tummy is upset
But sometimes I eat too much
And I end up at the vet”

It’s almost five ‘o’ clock
Both hear the rattling of a tin
That sound means it is dinner time
Time to be going in

Sam gently says to Pearl
“See you tomorrow, the same time”
Pearl preens her whiskers and purrs softly
Then over the wall she starts to climb

Sam spies a muddy patch
He'll save it for another day
Then he'll see his pal, Pearl the cat,
When she’s next out to play

war
the animal instincts of humanity
men
huge storms
demons
my own weaknesses
the idea no one actually likes me
approaching a group of people
ordering food at a restaurant
Sacred Heart
disappointing God
being misunderstood
dependence
mental and personal instability
yelling
nonreciprocation

Drenched in heavy morning rain
Like an arctic soaking, to the vein;
I just sat there stunned and wordless,
by the results of endless tests.

Only do I seek the scoffer's sympathy;
my litanies dot the bottom of this timpani.
No restaurant on high street offers...
Whoa! I found where my sanity rests:

A very comforting hand takes mine,
The other hand, by her child as well.
I draw dry ice sculptures in my mind,
While a hawk’s screech rings overhead.





_✒

People that can hurt you, the ones that can really hurt you, are the ones that are close enough to do it. People that get inside you and... and... and tear you apart, and make you feel like you're never gonna recover. ****. I'd... I... I would chop my arm off right here, in this restaurant, just to feel that one more time for my wife. My old lady, she didn't just break my heart. She... She'd rip it out, she'd tear it apart, she'd step on that ****, feed it to a dog. I mean, she was ruthless. She brought the pain. But she'll never hurt me again.

-Frank Castle in the TV show Daredevil

It was a black dress
and a $12 glass of white wine
that I later beamed to pay for

Sitting at the bar
alone
I got to see you first
I saw you without me
I could not wait
to change that

Tell me
let me tell you
pizza and salad
a conversation
that needed nothing
lingered in moments
and made me love you

Tiramisu and coffee
I should have kissed you
in the stairwell
of that restaurant
basement

“Come home with me?”
“ok.”
the train station
“I can’t.”

“Can I hug you?”
you asked
don’t leave
you left.

a flight back home
away from you
and that hug
and that hope
It was a black dress
a $12 glass of wine
a night
one night
that I was yours
Such short and simple words to hide a long enduring pain
born out of romanticizing
handing your heart
to a perfect stranger

trust me
they’re never perfect

Portobello mushrooms, I use them all the time
No matter how topped they always taste just fine
From cream cheese and crab to chicken fajita
No matter what you just want to eat ‘em

Philly beef cheesesteak, they’ve also been topped
So many possibilities, I’ll never stop
Bleu cheese and steak makes a hell of a filling
Portobello themed restaurant, I’d make a killing

Chicken Alfredo, or coconut shrimp
How about spinach artichoke dip
Turkey and dressing or how about pulled pork
You’d want to eat those with your fingers or fork

Taco, or nacho, or enchilada
How it gets better, I got zip, zilch, and nada
Or I don’t know how about spinach frittata
You could go Greek, lamb, feta, and Kalamata

Mediterranean, flavored quinoa or couscous
So many options, man just turn me loose
Lemon pepper, scallops, or Oyster Rockefeller
Or Chicken Rice saffron, it would be yeller

At this point, I feel like Bubba from Forrest Gump
Going on about toppings, oh well over the ****
Buffalo Chicken or Asparagus turkey parm
Just about anything you can get at the farm

Goes great on a mushroom I think you can see
Most people wouldn’t, but, hey they’re just not me

A laborer bagging paper in the courtyard ,
smoking mangled cigarettes kept in -
a sock
Flags crack like whips in the Fall breeze
Disoriented black birds fill town trees
Breath has become visible on hurried -
townsfolk
Cars in angled row line the pharmacy ,
barber shop and the only downtown restaurant
Idle chatter , ringing of silverware , the  -
drawer slamming against the cash register
Waitress calling orders to a fry cook ,
children working gum ball machines
Middle class Americans in flannel shirts -
and blue jeans
Paying Friday tabs , barely getting by ..

The coach had left Paris
and it was still dark
apart from street lights
and they became less

as we got
to the countryside
music was coming out
the coach radio

some Mozart
some French
radio station
Miriam sat next to me

her head slowly
resting on my shoulder
her curly red hair
tickling my cheek

she'd swapped with Bill
at the restaurant
in Paris
he sat with

some other guy
whom she's *******
beside her
music makes me sleepy

she said dreamily
don't mind me
resting on you
do you?

no sure
go ahead
I'd said
and she had

I thought of my mother
and her parting words
be careful
of your wallet

and your morals
and changed
your underwear
every day

I had my wallet
safety-pinned
in my coat pocket
and I changed

that morning
at the Dover B&B;
Miriam was nodding off
the slight sway

of the coach
meant she slowly
drifted into me
I saw her reflection

in the darkened
window beside me
her eyes closed
her mouth open

my shoulder
her rest
I studied
the pink

reflection cleavage
of her soft breast.

Do you remember
that night we first made love?.
I had bought you roses
from the flower girl.
The gypsy violins played
romantic music
in the old Hungarian restaurant.

We went back to my place
and we kissed deeply.
You were so shy.
I felt it odd you were shy
after all
we have been lovers
in so many lifetimes.

He always felt like he was at a disadvantage because he grew up less fortunate. While others had support his family never left the area. He went into the world tried more than most failed but never stopped believing kept striving he always said to his siblings he was the best brother. They didn't believe him and took his remarks for a comedic punchline.
He worked retail and in a family own restaurant he loved his jobs but learned the hard way never to work with family. He worked twice as hard because he didn't want others to say he only got his job because he was related to the owner. He didn't like when others talked about him or had this twisted perspective of how they viewed him.
He would. Move on to retail you treat others right and give your all it's easy to do when others don't take pride in their work. He was willing to learn and grow in the company but can only go so far.
He would spend lots of time writing on his down time trying to make sense of the confusion. Writing was his voice because when he spoke someone was easily offended or upset by his honest. He told the truth not what others wanted to her. All his life he got the truth and valued honesty because lies and fake people are only cheating themselves.
He had many friends some cut him out but he understands kids and marriage family is first. He wished them the best. While others would bad mouth him behind his back and fake to his face. He was honest and told them to their face things got twisted and those phony friends made him out to be the bad guy. He would be a protector of his peeps stood tall for them when it came to him needing them, they are no where to be found. He learned to let go it was hard but he realized all these friends are doing everything they criticized him about.
He quit drinking for a friend but now he does it for himself. He would alter himself for a girl who doesn't like him the way he liked her. Tolerated annoying girlfriends who ended up cheating or dumping these peeps he thought highly of but they never gave him a thought or took him into consideration. He ruined his relationship so he can hang with his friend. His friends never made time for him when they had a girlfriend when the were arguing he was the first person they called and said they'd never go back it was over and that was a lie he heard too many times. He eventually stopped caring and focused on his priorities.

Oh no there's soup on my fly
cream of mushroom to boot
and here I am in this restaurant
wearing my best black Armani suit

I dare not get up
can't get off this chair
oh good grief
I'm in utter despair

The napkin did not help
just smudged it a little more
it looks a long long way
to get to the restrooms door

I'm in such a pickle
I wish I could die
oh the embarrassment
for there's soup on my fly

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

The lights went out
When I was sipping my water
When we sat outside
In the backyard of the restaurant
You were listening to me speak
About my brother and my parents
And how I was worried that he felt
As alone as I did
When I was a kid
And you stared at me in concern
And nodded along

I loved the taste of the peppers
And I noticed them growing above you
Right by the stairs
That were covered in vine
With rickety wood
That probably gave the owner splinters
The same woman who told me that she
Got out of jury duty
Because she was biased
Because she was held at gun point
Not once
But twice
And that she wished she could return the favor


And when the lights went out
There was a stillness
And a second of quiet
And I looked up
To see infant stars sprinkled between the clouds
That were stranded above the city
Still tinged with remains of lavender
From the early sunset

And maybe
It would have been easier
If we believed in anything
If god itself could reach out
And pop each bulb
Like little balloons
And caress our cheeks
When we felt scared
Or isolated

And maybe it would have spared us
Some resentment
Or given us a break
For trying to survive
For trying to breathe in a world
Filled with a compassionate cruelty
And a smug sense of undeserved irony
That left an entire generation jaded
Or miserable
Or exhausted


Especially when looking for work
Like I did those years ago
While my father chided me
Cited merit
And integrity
And 'maybe I wasn't trying hard enough'
Yet still had the audacity
To retire young
And complain about it


And maybe
It would have been easier
If instead of apples
We were leaves
That turned into shades of fire
At the end of August
And were carried away
And then reborn
Instead of falling hard
And rotting on the ground


And maybe it would have been easier
Or maybe it wouldn't have
When my mother called me
In the cold air of the early spring
And I could hear her voice cracking
And I had to walk outside
Into the bitter cold
To keep myself from breaking


And maybe it would have been easier
If your parents hadn't loved you
And if my mother never came back
And we would've never met
And you would've never made me laugh
And I would've never had anyone
To call a friend or a sister
The way I call to you


And maybe it would have been easier

But it wasn't
When your mother called you
And told you of the news
And your eyes swelled
And my mouth dried up
And I knew it would never be easy
Since I was very young
But I would be there for you
As you continue to learn the same


And when the lights went out
We felt it
On our own
In our own ways
But we felt it together

Mrs B said
can I take you
out to dinner
one lunch time

for being
such a kind
young man?
I'll bring Lillian along

not because
I don't trust you Benny
because I do
but just in case

my husband hears
about me taking
you out for dinner
and thinks there's

something going on
and I wouldn't
want that
and I know

a nice restaurant
where we can
have a really
decent meal

and O best dress
in reasonable clothes
because the place
I am going to take you

is quite upmarket
no jeans or tee shirts
I let her talk on
while I studied her

after all
she was old enough
to be my mother
and unlike Lillian

who was of
a similar age
and was a quite dish
Mrs B

never struck me
as being
****** at all
but it was good

to have a meal
and see Lillian eat
and see her
delicate hands

and her pale complexion
and O those eyes
I could so easy
fall into them

and **** her in
O boy
how is that
for sin.

Every time I see the beach
A restaurant, bar, hotel.
I can only think of just one thing
One visage
One face
One girl

I'll never eat in comfort
I'll never sleep in peace
Swimming, surfing, fishing
Will always be empty

No intimacy, I'll ever feel
Memories will always flow
Those memories that are so good
No others will come close

I wish, I beg, desire
For you to feel the same
I know it's pointless now however
Others breathe your name.

I know it's just
A facade,
A screen to Veil the truth
But now the veil has turned to stone
The fake has turned to truth

Pain Of Place

We were happy or we weren’t.
Blended feelings formed the most;
College, restaurant, bookshop, church,
Street, park, architecture host
To chunks and bits of searching,
Forming eyes of yesterday.
Covered market, cups of tea,
Open market on a Wednesday,
Stalls of veggies, jewelry;
Child to school and child picked up,
The walking to, the walking back,
The elder tree we plucked, hands cupped,
While counted blocks betrayed a lack
Of some fulfillment.  What the target?
Surely not the streets and market.
Not the people either, nor
The daily passing through home’s door.
Gone.  But pictures still remain.
And with the pictures tints of pain.
Of place that’s not the face,
Not company.
The place acts independently,
Its energy “the spirit of…”
Its colors move.
Algos: pain.
Nostos: going home again.
Sweet nostalgia’s pull is ‘bull’.
Place may frame the pre-ordained;
Memory’s the game pre-pained.
Twists and lists: a dream.
Place and act, smell and sound:
Mind boundaries.
Mostly, we were happy or we weren’t.