Email Poem

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Personal Note:

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Poem

Standing in the
Starbucks line
I have ample time
to observe
the woman
beside me, her
lips and fingernails
painted bright red
like a billboard
she fancies herself
the main attraction
inadvertently
advertising her
desperate need
to be noticed

The tables dotted
with individuals
using their
computer screens
and newspapers
like barricades
they hide inside
fiercely protecting
themselves from
inconvenient
interaction

The boy
behind the counter
takes my order
his scarred hands
moving swiftly,
sinewy arms
decorated with
intricate tattoos

tall, decaf, nonfat
sugar-free
gingerbread latte,
he seems bored
disinterested, even
dismissing me as
chaste and sensible
just another suburban
soccer mom

The man behind me
talks on his cell phone,
like a guilty voyeur
I listen to his side
of the conversation;
in my head, inventing
some sordid scenario
to go along with his
clipped responses

My husband
waits for me
in the parking lot
like a beacon of hope
his truck, warm
idling eagerly
anticipating
my return.

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