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a coffee shop story
by ciril
safety pin my heart to my shirt
tender feelings of sun warmed pebbles under foot
blood red pool formed in the dirt
sullied poetry and dogeared corners that hurt
buildings rose to meet the soot
i should have remembered that red is flattering
especially when worn next to the heart on my shirt
peel the layers back and face away from my house when
calling
steel the door from the salesman that's falling
can other people's children sense the fear of
patrolling
she finds his remark highly revealing
for others the sound of disappointment is soothing
and the pin through my heart ain't fooling nobody
sweaty pant legs and eyes of the willing avoiding
somebody
as glances connect the presumptuous looks of
consumption
that woman across from me and a bottle of wine,
scrumptious
that precious ho must surely know where i go
i don't ask questions unafraid to grow
'cause the pot of coffee and the pin in my heart has
pulled a stunt
who smuggled the spices and crinkled their nose
i can't write poetry and in a funk over prose
marco polo ran the ship into the block and my ire rose
red snapper and dogs on the wall hid the fucking
oregano
on the schooner with the salty sailors and hos
pull on my tackle get up and go
it's a fine day to leave with tackle in hand
and my heart on my sleeve
farewell
good-bye
ciao