Wednesday, January 12, 2011

A Morning at the Lettered Streets Coffeehouse

I sit under the backwards espresso sign
sipping my coffee
perusing a travel book about Turkey.
The borrowed pages
smell like paprika.
Droplets gather on the steamy window
and travel down in groups.
The women behind me talk
about their trip to Africa.
The glowing sign faintly buzzes
and I leave half my coffee undrunk.
It is winter
there are no flowers on the table
and I will never go to Turkey.


  1. Melancholy poem with a striking realism. Could picture the scene clearly. Fine Poem. Cheers

  2. Lovely, the way you have captured all travelers scuttled plans to their own Turkey.

  3. Sad. Surreal. How we dream, how we long, for things that will never be. We look to others stories and we see ourselves there...never to be. Melancholy, as Dustus said - a skilled and deft capture of a moment in time. It says much in seemingly little, bares a depth within the well-described scene.

  4. never say never...keep dreaming and please pass the coffee...smiles.

  5. This feels like a poem that could be an allegory if it was pushed a little further. Even a simple change in the title could manage it, if you wanted. You might also think about switching a few of your verb forms: "sip" instead of "sipping," "peruse" instead of "perusing," that sort of thing. Neat little scene.