Coffee Hour

by on March 7th, 2011
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Marking time ’til Saturday,
Gathering jokes to tell old men.

Golden arches, coffee, kids,
Blueberry jelly peeled open, half-spent

A cup of joe, a friendly face
The senior price is forty-two cents.

Booths are full with wifi squatters,
We find our place on a plastic bench.

We tell of travels and books we’ve read
And trade our tales and gripes and yens.

“What’s new in politics?” we sometimes ask,
“The same old lies, more money spent.”

The headlines fade and then we sit
And respond on queue without a hint.

The same old stories we told last week,
Feigning ignorance, and funny again.

Sometimes, I think, we waste our days,
But Monday comes and it never ends.

Marking time ’til Saturday,
Gathering jokes to tell old men.

Beats the hell out of dying alone
Like desperate observers of sunsets since.


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