Ill-fitting clothes and a devil-may-care green plaid newsboy cap.
Grey herringbone tweed jacket with brown trousers.
Hiking boots, no socks, no match for the smile
fresh from lukewarm coffee and a cold cinnamon bun.
Impossible to forget that sad café, so full of joy,
flush with familiarity and comfort, born of cracked formica
and stained paper menus, and worn wooden stools,
their broken rungs patched together with toothpicks and glue.
The building is gone now, with her cap and her smile.
Chrome fixtures and polished granite and so much glass!
The worn wood, replaced with leather and silk,
removed from the place, like that tweed and the boots.
We spoke of missed opportunities and moving to Brazil and
the way the old barbecue joint chained knives to the tables.
We knew it was just a matter of time, but not how little,
before those knives and those opportunities would be gone.