Sitting in a post croissant festive daze
Vaguely aware of two reflected women,
"Oh my word..."
And
"Oh, yes..."
I see,
Through prison bars
My friend Bruce, with,
Is that his daughter?
Clatter from the counter interrupts.
At another table
Two women talk,
And talk,
And order more coffee, which I think is apt
As the woman with her back to me
Is wearing a blouse,
Decorated with coffee beans,
I imagine she has made a effort,
Or perhaps not.
"Well, we are where we are...."
Parked to my left is a maroon baby buggy,
It is empty as attentive grandmother
Nurtures a contented child, in
Enfolding,
Filial arms,
Comforting,
Caring, as it
Dreamily suckles its bottle.
Clatter, ping, ding....
Padded coats are guided past.
Sitting upright now
The baby frowns
As it's back is patted.
Reflected diners continue
"When you are working, and you have been busy all day...."
Followed by
"Three weeks to stew over it, went to the top man"
How we assume a patriarchal structure,
Marisa and Karl dance twixt busy tables,
Twisting hips to float between unruly chairs.
"When Steve goes to London..."
Bruce settles his account
Moving away with an armful of folders and a newspaper.
Multitasking,
Trays are balanced on one hand, as
Orders are acknowledged with a nod.
"How old are they?"
"Nine and ten."
In your checked, large buttoned, sleeveless top,
You look so much better
When you smile.
I see a leafy jumper,
Carefully chosen
And that ........
Oh dear,
Aubergine is coming back.
Have you noticed
Men with short hair,
Have sticky out ears?
I stare out
Oh, there is Rob
Passing by.
The baby stares and looks through unfocused eyes,
Then his
Plump cheeks, are wiped, prompting
A beautiful smile.
At which point
I settle my bill
To keep on
Keeping on.
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