Coffee
By Amy P., Agawam, MA
Orange sun peeks above the trees
on my way to the bus station
to take the 6 a.m. bus to the city.
I turn my back to the right,
I turn my back to the left,
one to the other.
Then I walk forward and step off the bus ...
sidewalk caf" with red checkered tablecloths ...
I sit down and order an Espresso
and fill my mug with milk
while I wait impatiently ...
I can't wait to see you,
but then I know what I have to do.
I see you looking around the caf",
and I get up and run away
while you call my name.
I run all the way to the bus station ...
2 p.m. bus to the country ...
I'm disappointed, but I do not cry.
This is good.
This is my real life now.
I am happy. I will be.
I sit down by the window in the dark -
You can see out better that way ...
2 a.m. and I am happy.
These are tears of happiness
running down my face.
This is good - I'm washing my eyes.
In the kitchen I make myself a decaf
and I drink it black, the way I hate it.
This is real life; No sugar added.
Bitter.
|
