coffee stop

I prefer booths;
these tables are too close together,
but not enough like a Paris café:
where’s the arrogant waiter
tyrannizing between the tables?
These wimpy servers are too pale
and worried to pull it off.

You were talking about your cousin:
how she’s dying of
chemotherapy or something;
and I was telling you about the crows
how they shit on my car
and burned the paint.

That guy over there must weigh four hundred pounds;
he looks like he’s going to eat the table next.
I thought his box of donuts was for takeout—
me? I was afraid he was going to eat me,
and not in a good way.
Okay. So your sis—

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About riverwriter

Poet, playwright, duplicate bridge player, website designer, cottager, husband, father, grandfather, former athlete, carpenter, computer helper for my friends, theatre designer, backstage polymath, retired teacher of highschool English, drama, art, a baritone singer in a barbershop quartet, who knows what else? wordcurrents is on Facebook: Doug also has a Facebook page, "Incognitio", related to his novels.
This entry was posted in dramatic monologues, fun, lotus eaters, Poetry, serial and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to coffee stop

  1. CE says:

    I really liked this. Reminded me of John O’Hara. Honest, observing and open. Humor is allowed!

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