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