pie nook

just one stop between book deliveries
don't dally and loiter
Miss Olive is waiting,
you must be coffee-quick!

but it hits me in the stomach
like seeing an ex,
no, like smelling an ex,
the Tide in his clothes,
you can't see it coming
so there's no time to brace

look!  it's my table,
my corner, my nook.
hello old friend,
did you miss me missing you?

my holy spot
where I spent a year of mornings,
before there was the liberry
there was you and just me

you taught me to sit still,
and how to draw for fun,
how to draw for a reason
as well as how not to.

we wrote jokes, sets, notecards
I'd practice silently in my head,
trying not to move my lips,
(i heard you look smarter if you don't).

you helped me learn to appreciate my age,
although mostly I tried to decipher it:
am I old?  am I young?
yes and also yes

i tried to gauge my age,
but it was tricky, you know.
skinny jeans were in, but the male barista's matched mine.
what were the chances that we were both right?

but in a coffee shop by late morning
when those with real jobs have cleared out,
everyone fancies himself
an artist, a needle
in the unappreciative haystack,

we fancied ourselves poets
and writers and such,
but the fancying, it mattered,
and I won't say we were wrong.

but maybe age wasn't what i thought
Olive Miyagi has taught me better.
life keeps growing
and the creating helps it along.

doesn't everyone have something
to make and to add?
has all the art already been arted?
maybe there's more if we start it

Prof. Machovec, Econ 101, always demanded
"Don't divide up the pie, waiting for the tin to run empty,
make more pie, there's always more can be made!"

word pie
music pie
picture pie
people pie
roll up your sleeves and flour your hands.

Little Corner, it's been awhile.
you seem shifty and nervous.
you rebounded, didn't you?
did she drink sissy coffees?

I bet she instagrammed her lattes
and ate her cake pops in two sittings.
she sounds just horrible, and
I hate her already.

but how can i complain when
I did the leaving?
you couldn't help but be tempted
by her mochas and sloppy seconds.

but for a minute, i'm here,
the coffee's black and strong.
i'm rolling up my sleeves
and it's time to bake or be baked.

painting by www.davidarms.com