poetry / montreuil, two facing restaurants

Saturday, Montreuil.

Shimmering sleep drenched people in wicker chairs
face each other across morning lit tables,
They come into focus slowly. The man and woman
behind glowing ceramic cups.

Tobacco smoke floats between them 
stories of neither here nor there
expanding, lingering and finally dissipating.

Lips are puffy with language unfurling
rolled back and forth, dislodged, warmer now
and quicking the lower jaw of centuries.

Active hands, fluent now, keeping rhythm
Hers compressing a sugar packet into soft pulp
His long fingers woven together across tapping knee

A skateboard growls past the cafe
both heads follow the wheels and sound
of a boy sent between the cafes 
to wake the endless mornings.

skateboarders paris ursula rose

photo courtesy of my friend Ursula Rose, follow her Instagram here.


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