Night train, 4:25am, Arches

Eye Rolls and Sticky Buns

You don't wanted it grinded? Ground
Gloria and her eye rolls
Shaking finger
Shaking head
Or worse
The Stare.
She won't
Or
She will before you ask her
Communication is not her forte
Barista 101 mistakes she won't forgive
"she's probably calling out the drinks wrong!"
Barista 201 mistakes she won't acknowledge
"I got her"
Vs
"I got you"
Which feels. So good, so intimate
A stranger taking you
Getting your back


Everyone speaks in a vocab of a limited set of words
Grande
Vanilla
Please
Latte
Bone dry
No foam
Venti
Chai
Soy
Americano
Tall blonde
Tall bold
Tall dark
Venti venti venti

Only now
5 weeks in
Am I looking forward to people
And they seem to connect with me
Look me in the eye
I do NOT yell
Next!
Good morning!!!
Or worst:
Following!!!
Like it was an order
Some people
Like brad
Make her smile

Silver of Sunset

Crying

Sometimes there are only two places where you can cry.

The church.

And the subway.

Large white man
Frat boy
Healthy
But what else?

And the young semi spanish semi black semi asian man on the subway.
He kept looking like he was about to throw up.
Cane, big plastic bag
No consideration for public boundaries
Buy probably because he was sick
Looked 30
Or
60

How quiet Monuque got

Happy?

Outside the NYPL
Marble statues posing
For tourist
Posing for photographers
Posing
For the perfect shot

I took this job
V
Because
I suspected I was low
In self esteem
(and funds)

Like a baby boy
I cry
And screw up
Pushing go buttons
When the milk is far from the steamer
(it splatters)
When the grinder pitcher is gone
(the machine won't work, thank god)

And I take it to hear when anyone says
That "it is taking goddamn forever"
Although I used to complain (more)

And the hours of my youth slow to a crawl
The time flits by on a screensaver
Taunting me
And worse
The daylight savings computers
Who tease me from the future.

The homeless man
ME
asked for a favor
"a cup of water, ice"
We do not give out samples
Or encourage..
And he had music
"Happy"
That inane song, everywhere
Neither of us were

Orig!! Ella Vocal Competition

"I Like The Sunrise"

Like Jazz, her voice rose.

It quavered, teetering on the edge, resolving nicely, a skilled pilot saving the swoop.

Her parents, heavy in accent and body and tradition, eager to film her from the furthest balcony.

Vs the kid who copied Sinatra

.

Break