Strawberry blonde curls frame your face. Messy ringlets cascade over your shoulders. They pool around a lackluster orange knit hat. Your muted beauty is a perfect match to the mellowed out vibes of the Kaya Coffee House. Its like its atmosphere has shaped your being---or did you shape the aura of this place? The freckles on your face are abstractly artistic. Your cloudy green eyes have seen just about everything, haven't they?
I want to start a conversation with you---get to know you and your story. I say hello but I can tell I sound like an outsider to you. A silly little teen who doesn't know who or what she is talking to or about. "Do you have any, uhm, specialty lattes?" I ask in a fleeting attempt to start a discussion.
"Yeah, right there." You wave unmindfully at the black-board menu behind you. I blush, embarrassed. You probably think I'm stupid. I already saw the menu, and I read it through. I was just hoping for some input from you. I proceed to order a Love Potion #9. You make change without giving me a second glance. I sip my latte and you go outside for a smoke.
The walls are clothed in art, yet somehow it isn't cluttered. I read a newspaper cutout about you. You make backpacks and for each one you sell, you give one away to a child in need. That makes me smile. People helping people. I read some poems on the walls. One is about the Kaya itself. "I walk the grass and avoid the sidewalk."
The bus honks outside to signal the students to load up. My time here is done. All too soon. Hopefully I'll return within the year to walk among the grass with you.
No comments:
Post a Comment