Coffe Shop Club

Pinto beans

Coffee shop dialouge.

It's just so refined.

I smell the scent of strong coffe swirling in the air,

a caffiene ballerina in the air.

Intimidating, that's what it is.

I don't belong here.

But I can't turn back now.

Once you enter, you cannot leave.

I am past point of no return.

Opera masks aren't present in the flesh,

but they may as well be.

Bohemian smokers and artistic dreamers

wear masks of words and

langauge, with knitted-wool sweaters

and pencil mustaches.

Maybe one day I can join this coffee shop club.

But for now I'll just watch.

Author's Note

Felt this way while reading a poem. It was awesome. It intimidated me. But I loved it nonetheless.

Reviews

[KAOlmsted]

there is not a writer among who has not been intimidated by another writer's work...and then we feel so inadequate. You have absolutely no reason to feel anything but gifted, because you are. Really good stuff. Caffeinated ballerina...priceless. And I felt a bit more than just interpretative with this poem, I felt literal, because I have been in situations where I just know I don't belong in that particular shop, store, etc...but that is just perception. Of course I belong. And so do you. Excellent write.

-kimmer

[Daliah Valley]

Thank so much. I really appreciate you reading my poem(s). And reviewing.