Old men type texts on their smart phones
with one finger and no emojis.
A middle aged woman slices her eggs
with knife and fork.
All but one of the laptops are Macs.
Most of the coffee is diluted with cream and sugar.
From the Quick Fix station
Dean gets a scoop of ice cream in a coffee cup.
Twelve indoor tables are empty—three full.
Twelve outdoor tables are full—three empty.
For the fifth time in ten minutes a person
pushes on a glass door that does not open.
Two young women use the cafe as their office—
write code on screens that look similar to 1980s DOS.
copyright © 2022 Kenneth P. Gurney
In a bowl
sits peach cobbler
under a scoop
of vanilla ice cream
as the main dish
for my evening meal
when there is
about the date
to patron saints
I find I really
in the comfort
of my favorite
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
I caught Serendipity by the tail.
Now I am a flea thrown mid-wag
by seeing the car pull up
to disgorge seven children
at the rubber band snapping age
infused with floating dandelion puff wonder.
Thrown mid-wag I double somersault
into the sequel of the Sunday sacrifice
of a half gallon of ice cream
and two jars of chocolate sauce
which has become ritualized
into a weekly event
after rediscovering the great outdoors
in a park totally lacking suspicion
while lined by sinister houses
on the opposite side of the street.
copyright © 2020 Kenneth P. Gurney