Poetry

The Café of Broken Dreams

By October 18, 2012 No Comments

Cafés have ways of numbing you
As if you’ve entered some carefully organized art museum
Look don’t touch
Drink don’t speak

The exhibits
Are speckled with detail
One wears an expensive suit
Another, a type of hat you’ve never seen before
Is that a feather?
There’s this story behind them all
Maybe you’ve heard it before
Or can guess
But as brains melt into star-white computer screens
And the cloud shields mind
Words become limited to flickers
Like the gleam of framed glass
So you start to imagine

And on their faces you see orgasms
And everything ape behind their glances
How does your light inform them?

I too pretend I don’t see you
But wish I could know you
Know you in a field somewhere
Probably in Switzerland
And we’d kiss and feel the weight of each other
Our heat rivaling the real star high above
And we’d stay there past the 11pm closing time
As the night bugs start their noisy mating games
So late that even the grass and branches snore in the wind
And there we are
Like every poem and song says we should be
Just waiting
I don’t know what we’re waiting for