What’s the Story?

At the Cuban coffee shop,

leaning back, feet up on chair,

looking thoughtful, working on laptop.


A summer mix of scruffy and neat:

slicked-back hair and smartish shirt

over washed-out grey cutoff jeans,

sneakers standard black low Converse.


Is he reading, writing me

on that little computer screen

as I am him? That would be weird.

He stretches, yawns, strokes his beard.


Of course, I’m being silly;

It’s unlikely I’m his subject really,

and now he no longer types,

just reads something amusing, smiles.


But I’d be interested; he’s not bad-looking—

seems intelligent, maybe bookish;

dirty blond, light complexion,

nice legs that he’s flexing.


Our eyes cross paths, but I can’t tell

if there are sparks. His headphones

discourage a greeting as he checks his cell,

puts some funky shades on.


Copyright 2014

T. Allen Culpepper


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s