Evening in the Cafe
The loudspeaker is silent for once -
the quiet bustle and rumble,
sotto voce,
adding to papers' rustle
and the whine of Mr. Espresso.
"Ssh!" mother to unruly child.
"Ssh!" steamy foam for the latte.
"Ssh!" exhale the stale air of yesteryear
to make room for the invigorating new.
The multitude of printed words
press their psychic stamp -
a thousand images in one -
into my waiting brain.
Overwhelmed I teeter,
catch my balance
and find an empty chair.
Ink flows to stain the page -
scribbled fragments of sanity
and specks of heretical flotsam
mingle freely, formlessly -
until some gravitational force
draws concepts together
creates a phrase
and the poem is born -
full-grown Athena
from Zeus's brow.
Exhausted by the process
I sip my mocha
and ponder the long drive home.
1/5/2002
HeinzS
