POETRY

Life, From Behind the Counter

A cup of redemption

Photo by the Author

Note: Below the poem is an audio clip of the author reading the poem.

I’ve just finished the mobile order for French-Vanilla-Latte Jerry,
as he walks in and takes it to go, saying nothing.
Half-Caf-Soy-Latte-With-An-Extra-Shot
is sipping in the far corner, staring at nothing in particular,
forgetting to blink.
She’s dressed for office work,
sensible shoes, military crease in the pants.
Looking right through Grande-Americano,
who’s in faded jeans and work boots, reading a newspaper.
Salted-Caramel-Frappuccino, dressed for high school,
opens and closes her chemistry book, seeing nobody.
The Beatles’ Eleanor Rigby is playing,
“all the lonely people”.
The irony is so thick, you could drown in it.
I don’t spend any time in bars, but I wonder:
Do bartenders see more life than baristas?

Homeless-Guy comes in,
chatting like he’s on top of the world,
orders a small, plain coffee.
We talk while I pour. He…