Another Sonnet Written At a Coffee House
You sink into the bosom of the chair
And wonder if I too once sat amidst
The chattering, white coffee sipping fare—
The lonely writers ‘pining for a kiss.
Did I peer out over the porce’lain mug
And purse my vulgar mouth over the lip
My eyes a’roll behind my glasses’ fog
My writer turning phrase and spinning quips?
Did I curl my toes under my feet
Threading my fingers ‘round the scolding cup
My yellow molars grinding to the beat
Of meds-a-glee and glutt’nous caffeine ups?
No—
I didn't’t sit cross-legged and introverted—
I flipped through glossy pages and consorted.
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