Coffee with apple pie á la mode
Lost souls on La Ciegnega
The sea is high
Wind strong
Perfume smell of minerals
That rise from the briny
Close to truth
Holding life
How do these survive?
Pay them. Dress them smart
Cut the hair and
Bleed the heart
A wind blows to stir the tree
Money falls
Whilst we stand beneath
Armed with rake and shovel
All I want is another coffee
Another shot at the lights
Just to hear them go
POP! TSCHHHH!
You hit one and coffee drops
Like a circus prize
In a concrete mug
Anchored in the silent deep
Norm’s Diner
West Hollywood
September 2009
M E McCarthy
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