scene at a street cafe'
‘One day I will find the right words,
and they will be simple.’ Jack Kerouac
she strives for exactly that:
to make something easy out of art;
to find the simple words in this complex universe
that will fit with rough edges into a poem.
there is peace around her, the traffic moves at a
calm pace. the composition of the scene tells me
that the air is warm & her drink is cold, or perhaps
it’s temperate wine. (coffee is on the poster board,
I imagine it being strong & bracing.)
her demeanor appears untroubled. she doesn’t care
that her hair is fashionably loose, the strands dangling,
casual as summer romance. & I, being in love, want to
believe that she is writing amorous verse, of her heart
& simple beauty.
there is a lover waiting for her to return, & the bed is
unmade. or let us say the bed is empty, & the lover is
gone. she comes to this practical table to imprint her
whatever her passion, she has found the simple words
to emote the language of her inner self. I can’t read her
page, but I know she scripts the plaintive melody that
would make me love her. and I cannot write like that,
so I write this…
she hurries to that celestial tier of Poets so quickly
that she passes herself.