It was in the Coffee Shop

Where we met face to face

I was drinking mine black

You entered from the rear

Came right up to me

Standing over me at the table

In your black fitted suit

 

My one hand grasping the ceramic mug

My other hand placed on the clean smooth table

Sugar, salt shaker, pepper shaker, sit on the surface

 

You approached me without warning

Now hovering over me

Towering over my structure and thin beard

Dressed in black

 

We exchange words

Only briefly

With secret glances

Opera music plays in the background

Filling the surroundings

Echoing in our minds

Together

 

Languages not understood

Flash by my ears

My piece sits in my jacket pocket

We acknowledge that our paths have been crossed

The blue hiss from the lights above radiates us with an iridescent glow

Like fish in the dead sea

I’m unaware that our paths will cross once more

With you murdering me

Not knowing who I am or what I am made of

 

You depart my table

Your black suit taken with you

You exit through the front

I sip my black coffee

And think about my love

 

 

© 2002 David Greg Harth

02.05.01.13:08:50@1515NYC