02-06-2012, 10:57 PM
An interesting day when I was seventy-two.
We're looking at each other, sitting here, beside the big window.
Here we can watch the outside people churning, flying round.
We are in a box that surrounds and protects us
behind its thick,sand safe glass wall;
we are looking out at all those looking in.
The coffee we ordered is spiteful. Its taste irritates me.
It has spent too long in its own glass tomb, reduced to a black buzz
of caffeine and sugared necessity.
Sugared. Made to taste better by added sweetness; hiding the bitter essence.
We don't touch.
People are looking. They only see what we want them to see.
We don't speak.
People are listening. They only hear what they want to hear.
A man behind us calls for sugar. I hear him.
We don't have any sugar.
The waiter has the sugar franchise....but he doesn't hear.
The man is in withdrawal. He must have sugar.
Everyone hears him...but not the waiter. We look at each other.
Knowingly. Smugly, even. We don't need sugar, you see:
And we are pleased. The man gets up and walks to the counter.
His says his coffee is now cold.
We look out of the window to prove we are not interested.
That's what we do. Never show interest.
The glass is thick and strong. No one outside is interested, either.
There are noises behind us but we don't hear a thing:
well, we hear every word but we are not interested.
The man knocks over a chair and shouts.
Outside a uniform runs towards the door.
We sip our vile coffee and grimace to each other.
Shall we go? Do you want another? If you do, I do, too.
From the reflection in the window I can see that the uniform is holding on to the man.
The waiter comes back. Two more coffees, please.
The waiter is not listening.
The man is still shouting as the uniform takes him outside, past the glass.
We do not look. The uniform is holding the man by one arm as he hauls him away.
The waiter looks offended. He shrugs to no one and quickly scans the room.
Two more coffees, please. Loudly this time.
The waiter nods to me and starts towards us.
I look away and in the reflection the waiter veers off
and disappears from view again. We do not talk as we wait.
And wait.
The uniform comes back and asks us if we saw what happened.
We saw nothing. The coffee comes in five minutes.
The waiter looks up as he puts down the cups.
He asks if we want sugar but he is looking away from me; so I turn away, too.
Yes, please.
The coffee cools as we wait for the sugar we don't want....but it doesn't arrive.
We leave the cold coffee.
Without talking we get up and gather our shopping.
We leave without paying for the coffee we didn't drink.
Going home in the winter cold, we hold hands.
We do not talk, even though it was an interesting day.
Tectak
Feb 2012
We're looking at each other, sitting here, beside the big window.
Here we can watch the outside people churning, flying round.
We are in a box that surrounds and protects us
behind its thick,sand safe glass wall;
we are looking out at all those looking in.
The coffee we ordered is spiteful. Its taste irritates me.
It has spent too long in its own glass tomb, reduced to a black buzz
of caffeine and sugared necessity.
Sugared. Made to taste better by added sweetness; hiding the bitter essence.
We don't touch.
People are looking. They only see what we want them to see.
We don't speak.
People are listening. They only hear what they want to hear.
A man behind us calls for sugar. I hear him.
We don't have any sugar.
The waiter has the sugar franchise....but he doesn't hear.
The man is in withdrawal. He must have sugar.
Everyone hears him...but not the waiter. We look at each other.
Knowingly. Smugly, even. We don't need sugar, you see:
And we are pleased. The man gets up and walks to the counter.
His says his coffee is now cold.
We look out of the window to prove we are not interested.
That's what we do. Never show interest.
The glass is thick and strong. No one outside is interested, either.
There are noises behind us but we don't hear a thing:
well, we hear every word but we are not interested.
The man knocks over a chair and shouts.
Outside a uniform runs towards the door.
We sip our vile coffee and grimace to each other.
Shall we go? Do you want another? If you do, I do, too.
From the reflection in the window I can see that the uniform is holding on to the man.
The waiter comes back. Two more coffees, please.
The waiter is not listening.
The man is still shouting as the uniform takes him outside, past the glass.
We do not look. The uniform is holding the man by one arm as he hauls him away.
The waiter looks offended. He shrugs to no one and quickly scans the room.
Two more coffees, please. Loudly this time.
The waiter nods to me and starts towards us.
I look away and in the reflection the waiter veers off
and disappears from view again. We do not talk as we wait.
And wait.
The uniform comes back and asks us if we saw what happened.
We saw nothing. The coffee comes in five minutes.
The waiter looks up as he puts down the cups.
He asks if we want sugar but he is looking away from me; so I turn away, too.
Yes, please.
The coffee cools as we wait for the sugar we don't want....but it doesn't arrive.
We leave the cold coffee.
Without talking we get up and gather our shopping.
We leave without paying for the coffee we didn't drink.
Going home in the winter cold, we hold hands.
We do not talk, even though it was an interesting day.
Tectak
Feb 2012