It's just poetry, it won't bite

Another Day


06.29.16 Posted in today's words by

Jimmie Kepler’s most recent poem to appear here was “Going Out to Eat” (January 2014) 

Another Day
By Jimmie Kepler

He walked into an old midtown coffee house.
A barista with sad eyes smiled as he entered the room.
An old hippie chick with a mop and a bucket.
A high school kid at the end of a broom.

The barista smiled, twirling hair around her fingers.
“What can I get you?” she asked and then yawned, lacking sleep.
“Fresh, black coffee,” he answered with a sigh.
“That’s two dollars,” she said, and he piled eight quarters in a heap.

And the rising sun beamed through the windows,
Brightening the dimly lit room.
And the night gave way to morning.
Life was giving him another day to consume.

The old hippie chick called to the man,
After he had moved to a table and taken a seat.
“I wouldn’t sit at that table,” she snarled.
“The sun will cook you with its heat.”

He thanked her as he moved to a spot in the back corner.
From his bag, he removed a laptop computer that was black.
He logged on, connected to the Internet, then started typing.
And the barista stood there, staring at his back.

An empty feeling washed over him as he viewed his appointments.
Then he propped his feet on the scarred wooden chair
And fed his thirst with caffeine to jolt his mind.
Then he started meditating on the day’s work, because he cared.

Suddenly, in a hazy mirror, he saw the barista’s sad eyes staring,
They drilled a hole in him; she tried looking into his soul.
Then he turned and looked at her directly
And he said, “Let’s blow off the day, have some fun before we’re old.”

And the rising sun beamed through the windows,
Brightening the dimly lit room.
And the night gave way to morning
Life was giving him another day to consume.

She smiled, twirling hair around her fingers
“I’m off at 10, my kid’s in school ’til 4, if can you wait.”
He nodded, saying, “I think you’ll be worth it.”
She cooed, “Ain’t interested in getting a husband, but I’ll accept a date.”

At 10, he left the old midtown coffee house.
The barista with sad eyes on his arm as they left the room.
An old hippie chick with a mop and a bucket just stared.
As did the high school kid at the end of a broom.



4 Responses to “Another Day”

  1. Bill Bruehl says:

    True poetry extracted from a moment that world would call banal. Superb.

  2. Thank you for your comment and feedback.

  3. Very nice window into a common moment with a twist. Love it.

Subscribe to Blog via Email

Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

Join 1,844 other subscribers

Latest Podcast Episode
0:00
0:00
vox poetica archives
%d bloggers like this: