Trip to the Coffee Shop

Trip to the Coffee Shop

I went to my local coffee shop without my computer this morning. On purpose. I took two books with me: ROMMEL DRIVES ON DEEP INTO EGYPT, by Richard Brautigan, and THE COMPLETE COSMICOMICS, by Italo Calvino. And yet, I felt left out. Everybody else was buried inside their laptops. It was like a bunch of laptops came to the coffee shop, and brought along their humans for entertainment. So, so as not to feel completely left out, I buried myself inside my smartphone.

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OWEN BARFIELD — POETRY DICTION

She has her thumb over the first letter.
At first I thought it was a P,
as in Parkfield, however–thank god for smartphones!
I look it up on my portable brain
and see that it is a B,
and that it isn’t PARK but BARF–
the excuses I use to dive into a screen,
any screen!
I cannot extricate myself.

She is reading a book.

Amazing things happen still, even
in today’s world, and I climb out of my e-verse
to look at her, me trying not to look creepy
or be creepy, or anything else that might seem less
than acceptable or advisable,

so I plunge back to “learn about the publisher”
Wesleyan: who are they, where are they from, what
do they publish?

Lots of poetry it turns out.

Back inside the device where everything is safe
not as fluid or warm as a womb,
though really, it kind of is the new womb, the modern
womb,
the safety blanket of all electronic wombs!

I must

detach

myself.

She’s wearing green pants–the young woman
reading a book–and a wool vest
that was sown, I imagine,
from several kilts. What did she do
with those noble Scottish Warriors
who must have worn her vest
around their thighs and buttocks and balls
before it became her vest?

Is there more to this woman
than a study on language and poetry?

She’s probably a Jui Jitsu Warrior
or something similar.

She’s blond, I think, a straw blond possibly,
though I’m afraid to look
as I’ve possibly looked a bit too much
already, with a good excuse for sure,
as I was trying to decipher the cover
of the book
she keeps switching around her hands,
moving it up and down
that I can barely make out the letters.

I get up for a refill
on my bottomless cup of coffee.

Walking back to my chair,
I study the back of her head,
and I’d say she was closer to a light chestnut
with shades of strawberry.

The light is really bad
however,
and I can’t seem to get my glasses clean.

I have eternal smudges
on my lenses.

Ok, so I think she’s pretty. There.

 

PEACE AND LOVE
FRANÇOIS POINTEAU
Please buy my books:
BEER SONGS FOR THE LONELY
and
GOOD FEELING SEVEN SHORT STORIES
You can find them locally in Houston, Texas
at Wired Up on Dunlavy in Montrose
as well as in Austin, Texas
at Malvern Books, Book People, and Half Price Books (2222 & Lamar)

and online at Amazon

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