Tuesday, December 28, 2021

Blind Faith Cafe

Every time I walk past it I called it the Blind Faith Cafe.

I picture you sitting up there, at a table, behind the little miniature iron fence,

on the cement, just high enough above the sidewalk to look down on everyone,

Smelling their folly

yet perched, silently, at a distance, 

like a canary in a cage, crapping out all your self righteousness.

Keeping your distance from me, as if I were anathema

to your guilded lockets of longing,

you fondle your pearls while I stand in my wet golashes 

daring you to move.

I have no idea how the coffee tastes at the Blind Faith Cafe,

but I imagine it's bitter and in desperate need of cream.