I need no WiFi to say
what seeps from me this moonlit night
I came here drowned in loneliness,
unsure of what to seek.
Company? Half-second eye contact
with passing strangers on the street?
Some casual words with
a merchant, here and there?
I came from caged solitude,
seeking solitude among the crowd.
Instead, I found
a lovely server
who makes paninis with love,
and cuts avocados in small pieces
and lays them artfully on warm, toasty bread.
"Peach french soda", I said.
"Oh yes, I remember you", she muttered in the other direction, feigning indirection, perhaps?
"Thanks for the recommendation", I said as she served me my fruit salad.
"So how have you been?", when I came up to the counter to order once more.
"A vegetarian panini."
"Are you vegetarian?"
"Why yes!"
"I am too! I've struggled with it for quite a while, I've been going back and forth, until I got sick of it, you know."
"So how long now?"
"A few months now. And now, I find it repulsive to, you know, eat flesh".
Minutes later, while grabbing a straw,
"You make a really good panini, by the way"
"Thank you! I do it with love :)"
"hehe", I said, before my later shadowboxing: "I should have said 'I can tell :)'"
And when I came up to order a muffin, I felt and said apologetically,
"I've been feeling a little weird today"
"Oh yeah, I've had those days too" "May I ask what its' about?"
"Well, just personal stuff, you know", looking around vaguely, not sure how to summarize it in a short amount of time.
And then my mind was hitting itself, thinking of a dozen other things to have said. Why don't we get second chances to say it? Third chances? Magical hourglasses like Hermione had? Would love that.
Just before leaving,
"What's a Mexican Mocha?"
"Just like a Mocha, but with cinnamon syrup in it. It's not too spicy."
"I'll have one."
"Do you want whipped cream?"
"Yes, please".
"You're like, YES OF COURSE! :)"
"Of course :)", I replied in a tardy echo.
I drank it quickly, and then was putting everything together.
"Wow", she said, coming out. "The other guy asked me 'is he leaving? But he just ordered!'"
"Well, I'm a very good drinker :) It was delicious too, thank you!"
"Well, I hope to see you again around here :)"
"Me too! Are you here often?"
"Pretty much, about five days a week now. Mostly the evening shift, because, I don't do the breakfast shift"
"Oh awesome, then I'll see you around some other time! Bye!"
Soothing words from The Prophet and F.O.A. were like balm to my stinging heart.
You are like the ocean, and like the ocean, you cannot hasten your tides.
In your winter you deny your spring,
but the spring is not offended, and just reposes quietly in you, smiling, ready to be reborn.
Then after one toilet break,
an aimless wander brought me to
a wonderful corner of the bookstore:
the children's section! Where I found "A Story of buildings", wonderfully illustrated, and fathomed it a gift for my brother's children.
Hours, other fantastical books, and three online conversations later (which I had yearned for, but never received all day, while in my apartment), I emerged from that room, bought that book, and came out of the bookstore, hoping still to catch a glimpse of the amber-eyed lovely café server. I didn't, since she was upstairs, and I found myself shy to go upstairs and buy something else to eat (as my stomach's now satiated). But I hope to see her tomorrow. Hope, the soother of all troubles, released from Pandora's box ages ago, as I read today in "Greek Myths".
My heart still yearns company and close conversation.
But it feels a clearer glimpse of hope now. Or at least a bright silver bath of moonlight, the lively salsa beat of a nightclub next block, and the mixed sounds of people roaming, seeking mirth in downtown nightlife. Company too, perhaps. If only there were a kindergarten teacher that paired us up to talk and play, just as there was years ago. Abundant free will and choices seem to lead to abundant nonchalance. And the solitary find little communal energy to trigger bonds with others.
Let's see what else there is here tonight.
what seeps from me this moonlit night
I came here drowned in loneliness,
unsure of what to seek.
Company? Half-second eye contact
with passing strangers on the street?
Some casual words with
a merchant, here and there?
I came from caged solitude,
seeking solitude among the crowd.
Instead, I found
a lovely server
who makes paninis with love,
and cuts avocados in small pieces
and lays them artfully on warm, toasty bread.
"Peach french soda", I said.
"Oh yes, I remember you", she muttered in the other direction, feigning indirection, perhaps?
"Thanks for the recommendation", I said as she served me my fruit salad.
"So how have you been?", when I came up to the counter to order once more.
"A vegetarian panini."
"Are you vegetarian?"
"Why yes!"
"I am too! I've struggled with it for quite a while, I've been going back and forth, until I got sick of it, you know."
"So how long now?"
"A few months now. And now, I find it repulsive to, you know, eat flesh".
Minutes later, while grabbing a straw,
"You make a really good panini, by the way"
"Thank you! I do it with love :)"
"hehe", I said, before my later shadowboxing: "I should have said 'I can tell :)'"
And when I came up to order a muffin, I felt and said apologetically,
"I've been feeling a little weird today"
"Oh yeah, I've had those days too" "May I ask what its' about?"
"Well, just personal stuff, you know", looking around vaguely, not sure how to summarize it in a short amount of time.
And then my mind was hitting itself, thinking of a dozen other things to have said. Why don't we get second chances to say it? Third chances? Magical hourglasses like Hermione had? Would love that.
Just before leaving,
"What's a Mexican Mocha?"
"Just like a Mocha, but with cinnamon syrup in it. It's not too spicy."
"I'll have one."
"Do you want whipped cream?"
"Yes, please".
"You're like, YES OF COURSE! :)"
"Of course :)", I replied in a tardy echo.
I drank it quickly, and then was putting everything together.
"Wow", she said, coming out. "The other guy asked me 'is he leaving? But he just ordered!'"
"Well, I'm a very good drinker :) It was delicious too, thank you!"
"Well, I hope to see you again around here :)"
"Me too! Are you here often?"
"Pretty much, about five days a week now. Mostly the evening shift, because, I don't do the breakfast shift"
"Oh awesome, then I'll see you around some other time! Bye!"
Soothing words from The Prophet and F.O.A. were like balm to my stinging heart.
You are like the ocean, and like the ocean, you cannot hasten your tides.
In your winter you deny your spring,
but the spring is not offended, and just reposes quietly in you, smiling, ready to be reborn.
Then after one toilet break,
an aimless wander brought me to
a wonderful corner of the bookstore:
the children's section! Where I found "A Story of buildings", wonderfully illustrated, and fathomed it a gift for my brother's children.
Hours, other fantastical books, and three online conversations later (which I had yearned for, but never received all day, while in my apartment), I emerged from that room, bought that book, and came out of the bookstore, hoping still to catch a glimpse of the amber-eyed lovely café server. I didn't, since she was upstairs, and I found myself shy to go upstairs and buy something else to eat (as my stomach's now satiated). But I hope to see her tomorrow. Hope, the soother of all troubles, released from Pandora's box ages ago, as I read today in "Greek Myths".
My heart still yearns company and close conversation.
But it feels a clearer glimpse of hope now. Or at least a bright silver bath of moonlight, the lively salsa beat of a nightclub next block, and the mixed sounds of people roaming, seeking mirth in downtown nightlife. Company too, perhaps. If only there were a kindergarten teacher that paired us up to talk and play, just as there was years ago. Abundant free will and choices seem to lead to abundant nonchalance. And the solitary find little communal energy to trigger bonds with others.
Let's see what else there is here tonight.
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