Coffee people

(not a poem today, just a list of the people seen coming into one of my local coffee houses while I start the day there with my one shot latte…)

 

…a woman typing on her phone, not looked up once since sitting down; a man reading his book; an older man studying a newspaper, eating dunked biscuits; a woman outside reading her small screen and smoking; two men talking out there, smoking nonstop; two young female assistants chatting; a businessman buying a cappuccino, paper pad in hand with old fashioned pen clutched; an older man coughing, with two bags, with a double espresso looking like he needs it; a man on a mobile, very polite, disproving his dishevelled appearance;a  lady with a dog for takeaway coffee; a young man with skinny jeans buys a takeaway too; a woman with a child in a push buggy; two young women talking, one now on her laptop; two middle aged women taking up seats on the leather sofa; a short sleeved gentleman paying with notes from a wallet, with an American accent; each person’s order separated by ‘enjoy’; and a pigeon slaloming the chairs and tables outside…

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Market marketing

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Stallholders stalling,
watching,
waiting,
breakfast burger half devoured,
publicly chewing,
publicly watched,
eyes staring like a fisherman’s bait,
catching eyes,
a caught contact the first line of a contract;
hands back grasped,
nervous fingers counting empty,
in empty palms,
coffee cups dreg dredged,
cold liquid for comfort to a body belt lightweight in cash,
buggies one handed push by,
screen hypnotised mother’s see no market,
only messages of nothingness,
pensioners wander pleasant smiling, morning greeting,
pleased to interact in a lonely world of absent work and offspring, non-buying,
false hope to enduring stallholders,
the young work weaving,
drink and food finger-balanced on speedy sprint to waiting desks,
ignorant of table merchandise:
flowers, books, clothes, teas, breads, organic milk,
fast flying by;
the sun lifts cloudy shades,
warming bodies bring warming words,
smiles and jokes bring clicking wallets,
a sale,
a sale,
a sale from precarious futures.

 

And wow! Quite a ‘medium’ coffee in Costa’s…

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Home thoughts from a coffee house

Early morn in a coffee house, watching the passers-by, a few thoughts quick assembled into poems…

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Lives criss-crossing,
dreams and hopes interwoven with shopping,
and appointments,
and moneyless window-gazing,
downcast eyes of the unconfident,
Heaven-stared looks of the life-shallow affirmed,
all wondering if today is the day,
the day they meet the one,
the day their numbers roll up,
the day life marks them special,
the day their life explode sense,
the day the gods reveal themselves.

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Turret grill can just be seen through the window.

The turret grill,
bun entombed,
condiment enfenced,
one windowed world view,
no contact ‘cept ordered mugs and baps,
poster barred and sold down-rivered for £3.95,
a life sandwiched twixt greeting and farewell,
smile-filled thin and quick spread,
long moments solitary,
fiddle-filled,
eye stared at lives passing imagined fulfilled and full,
new order disrupting daydreamer errors,
how many years butter-spread ahead.

 

 

 

Coffee writing

Stopping for coffee in Costa on a Thursday with the market in full swing, perfect for relaxing and people watching. Made the mistake of forgetting Costa do three sizes of cup and so used to going for the ‘large’ in other coffee houses where that size equates to our usual mugs at home. But here ‘large’ means a double handled cup with a soupful of coffee – very nice coffee but so much to drink.

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Costa was surprisingly quiet at 10 a.m. so got served and a seat easily, by the time we left there were still seats available but a growing queue at the counter. Couldn’t log on to their hub for some unknown reason so had to wait until at home to write this up.

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Overheard a fascinating conversation between a student daughter and her mum and dad, obviously getting ready for her return to university (yes, I’m old enough to call it ‘university’ rather than the awful ‘uni’). The girl talking nineteen to the dozen, clearly looking forward to going back yet also nervous hence her machine gun dialogue. Mum and dad were quieter, no doubt pleased to see their daughter’s enthusiasm yet sad to see her leave home again.

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Stopped off on the way home and bought two small pictures in a charity shop after looking everywhere in department stores and shops for some simple pictures for a small room. Amazing what you find in charity shops these days.

Time for lunch – at home – then must try to complete some writing today or at least a final edit of my piece for Monday’s Writers Group meeting.