Keyboard in a Coffee Shop

Punctilious sounds from the first banks,
a white tipped river with money scored,
Jews hawk on benches and sailors press
clay, now cacophony black plastic-clad.
Light given to typists’ hands, dressed up
Excel spreadsheets with songs from old
mimicry made. Our right hand still there,
pointing commands like the popping twig,
as some wonder’s way our forest came,
making a sign of Green like day. That
basted sun of coffee shops, our saecle’s
stew, blasting mystery of the same sounds
of scribbles, tired exhaustion-trodden caps.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s