Thursday, July 5, 2018

unreported crime at colectivo coffee

A woman stole the 'f' key off my keyboard.

It happened while I was waiting for the bathroom,
three people ahead of me in line.
One woman wore a striped blue sundress,
shifting from sandal to sandal,
her lips folded into a disapproving seam.

Ahead of me, two statues stood, suspended,
as t-shirt clad servers from the kitchen
rushed vegetarian sandwiches
to customers at hewn-wood tables.
Their constipation or their serenity
rendered them
silent and unmoving,
surrounded by the flying sandwiches.

Two men comment on how long
the person in front of them is taking.
Five minutes
doesn't inspire confidence
hold your breath.
A toilet flush,
the rush of water
in an overworked sink
a woman, flipping her hair,
walks out the door and flashes
a bright smile and a Kate Spade
handbag at them.
oh hello there,
the elderly one says.

I notice the 'f' key is purloined—
clean gone—
and think of saying something
to the girl at the counter yelling
Iced mocha for Sadie
but I let it go.

I don't miss it anyway.

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