| Poetry |
COFFEE CULTURE
I go to the coffee shop,
one I have been to
many times before.
The young girl asks me what I would like.
I would like a new life,
I tell her.
She looks at me for longer than normal,
then she smiles.
I mean what I say.
Am I in the wrong place,
I ask as I settle for a coffee?
She turns to the other girl
who works there.
New life,
new life can we do that.
The other girl turns and takes a good look at me
and tells me that I am in the wrong place.
But I am always in the wrong place.
by Marc Carver
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