On finding your coffeeshop.

Life is beautiful,
          regardless of the hell we swim in
          & the love we choke on.
A day, sunny & blue
          to explore my South Street--
          not as tourist, but at home.
So many places, just tryna' make it
          Aladeen out of business?
          Failed Disney's magic carpet.
Keep on, Big Green Earth Store--
          I want this: free--
          take all 3. Sold!
No more cancer in my space.
          No more Dollar Store scares.
          Still an hour? I need dinner.

Time to try The Bean.
          Almost empty--like I want it.
          Soft music, soft typing,
               chairs which don't corrupt.
Gimme the standard-wich,
          with bagel, egg, & cheese.
               Hot coffee--gimme plenty
               & Tabasco, don't get lazy.
Window seat, best light,
          best spot to escape,
          see faces & street.

There's that old man I passed
          stopped right outside--opposite:
          grey beard, red pants, Cosby sweater, rusty bike,
          lingering stare: Just.For.Me.
He's Beat. He knows.
          Had to find me again
               to gift me with that wink & grin.
              Thanks, man.

Must learn of she whom he becries,
          with the benzedrine & the suicide eyes.
          Don't hear the freedwomen--only guys:
               what if where & who I'm with
               are my place & guides?

The chick with the words, me--
          amidst the tongue-tied, stuck inside.
               checks & balances,
               callbacks, freakouts.
Come here for a minute...
          No! Take me with you.
               Calm down, listen,
               & provide me protection.
We can do this alone, or try,
          but why?
               We won't make it out alive:
               Alive the way we need to die
                    to step out on the right side.

F

A space is only as clean as its bathroom.

Fuck yes.