BREAD CAFÉ

What a burning angel I search for

What a smoldering angel I am

If you do it to me

I’ll like it whatever it is,

Don’t hurt me

More than you have to, I want

To obey, give me no choice

But to be yours

The couple next to me are street chic

The woman has a formerly sweet face

She’s seen better hair color days, the guy

Is almost athletic in a broken down way

But he’s trying to impress her with bagels

They’re eating eggs and bacon, salt & pepper

Me? I’m drinking coffee, dipping a donut

In a Dominican suit and dyed tied T, I’ve got a paper

Napkin in my lap, near the big window,

You walk by, stop smile a kiss at me

And wave, then you’re at the table, arms

Around me, I say Baby,

                                        You say you have to put quarters

In the meter, I say Want anything?

                                                        You say Just you,

You’ll be right back; I say I’ll be here doll

And as you disappear I get bigger, more debonair

My coffee tastes better, the sun shines brighter

The couple squirms in their chairs; you are the best

Looking women any of the 3 of us have ever seen

At 10 o’clock on September 27th anywhere

Pink blouse, black pants, hair still wet

You move like a dancer, you smell of soap

And mountain breeze, and forest air

And an hour later we’re in your apartment

I have your blouse off and

Your mouth is all over me

A dog barks in the other room

You say Quiet Eddie, Go to sleep

I use virgin olive oil to lubricate your ass

That formerly cool breakfast couple

From the hot and crusty café is at

An Off Track Betting Emporium somewhere

Utterly and hopelessly pedestrian

Loosing their socks and shirts too,

But not in a cool way, not with you.

© 2005 Angelo Verga and Rochelle Ratner. All rights reserved.