poem of the day 03.02.09

a little something cold for those of us getting dumped with snow today:


trying to buy a cup of coffee
in allentown, buffalo on the morning
of 2/15/2007

on these streets
dying in the cold and ice
i am looking for a coffee shop
although i gave them up years ago
when i started to drink.
on allen street there’s one.
then another.
another.
another.
they still look the same:
beaten wooden doors,
big glass windows
covered in futile leftist
propaganda,
although now the pictures
of che rest next to
menus
advertising flavored coffee
and sandwiches loaded
with humus and sprouts.
looking at them, they made me
remember
the old pittsburgh years
the college years of cutting class
to read kerouac and ginsberg,
tasting the bitter joy of cappuccino
for the first time,
thinking i’d become something.
but what did i know?
almost thirty-three years old now.
my third city.
my third car.
my ninth apartment.
and still shoving poems
in the back pockets
of tattered jeans.
i cross the street toward
the illuminated neon green
coffee sign,
and pull the door blindly.
it doesn’t budge.
the joint is closed.
and so is the next.
next.
next.
no cappuccino for me.
no sprouts or humus.
no reading harold norse
under pink press threats
advertising rap shows
and anti-war rallies.
no warmth.
nothing.
just me and my memories again
left to freeze in the erie river wind.
left to huddle in the doorway
of the hair salon next door
that’s already open
at seven o’clock in the morning.

02.15.07