PM1212232
November did not creep in
until the last day of that month
and when it did, it seemed like
it had much more than revenge
on its' mind.
Cold breaths quickly dissolve
at bus stops while talking is
enough to freeze the saliva in your
mouth and allow your teeth to be
knocked out by a mere gust of
wind.
Garbage and coloured leaves
stick to the ground where they
blew, weighted down by the
cold they move no more.
Walking past Country Style
the door opens and immediately
the aroma of roasted coffee beans,
deep-fried sugar, danish
and black forest cupcakes
comes wafting through the air in
a forced breeze soon quaffed by
the slightest gusts of wind.
Peering inside the window a
mist forms on the glass by my
breath, disappearing only to
reappear with each breath I take.
I look at the tables
and see women with children
fifteen extra minutes spent
each time they have to undress
them to really feel the warmth
and then start all over again
when its time to leave.
An old man sits at another
table, watching the children,
no steam is coming from his
mug which means he finished it
or it has been sitting there too long.
Either way he's probably just
waiting long enough before they ask
him to buy something else or leave.
The huge toaster is spewing out
toasted bread waiting to be weighted
down with too much butter and
cream cheese, extra cholesterol
for the pre-heart attack victim
silently oozing off the sides and
saturating a napkin.
I long for the warmth and
the touch of so many people
and I can even spot a chair
where I could sit, on the edge
of all the different groups yet a
part of the entire scene.
I dream about pushing my way
into that Garden of Eden but I pause
too long and then I realize
there are too many people.
MCC
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