Home: Coffee House Poet (a poem)

(Written at the Coffee House)

Here is where I meet my friends,

House

have long conversations; glances,

can't remember all their names--

(all the time) my coffee cup often jumps,

when they come by, breaking up the

moment of my concentration....

Women want to borrow chairs--often

around my table; I'm a regular here--;

everyday until-night, from three to almost

midnight... writing, reading, drawing,

it's what I do, I'm a poet.

Three's the professor, from the U of M;

and Johannes, a poet and friend; and

then, there is Papa Bear, he works at

the Airlines, worried, 'Northwest,' is

going out of business

And then there is Gene, he likes erotica;

and Kathy, she's a Faulkner fan; and

Royce, a lawyer, he has no real choice;

and Mathew, he's a writer of songs, and

music

And then there is Janet, she's loves the

word of God; and Michelle, she likes the

law also; and there's Cindy W., a poet

who loves 'Plath,' and Gary and Sue, book

lovers too, and me, a plain poet.

I have learned much from all my friends,

at the Coffee House, at the B & N, in

Roseville--and that we all love to inhale

the odor of Coffee, books and conversation;

I think fate has brought us here; Amen!

Dedicated to my friends at the Coffee House; #1257 3/2/06 revised 2/5/06

Coffee House Poet (a poem)