Coffee shop – #74 of 365 Poems


On a Coffee Struck weekend morning
in the local coffee shop I ponder on the way people order coffee.
Do they know what they want before they walk through the door
Just like they know what they want when they enter other people’s life
May be it does not matter in the case of coffee
No one is asking you to make up your mind
No one is saying you cannot change it
Everything has a price tag; you pay less or you pay more
the only thing that really matters is ‘Time’
I mean sure, you cannot go there and order something that is sold only next door
Yes you got a set of choices, but limited
But you have choices
May be too many choices, if you are someone like me
Just to avoid that torture I make up my mind always before I enter
Even if that is not what I might like if I had more time
I have a problem with time; even if I can afford to spill the coffee beans on it
Time, it is such an abstract thing and yet so clear
you have it, but you lose what you have, the moment you account for it;
so do you have it?

I look behind and see if the person behind has his order decided
Is he also making a choice like me?
The guy in the front takes his time and a bit if mine as well
He is still not happy with his custom order
Does he realize that he is not happy
After all it is just coffee
But even on weekends some people are so Coffee struck
My turn comes and I look at the beautiful girl at the counter
‘Coffee’ I say
‘what size?’ She asks
‘Big… medium… sorry.. tall..’ I mumble
‘room for cream?’
‘No…. Yes…. No….No… No….”
I am worried of time… why can’t it be easy
I just need coffee….
‘For here to Go’…. She is also impatient, and has fallen into the time labyrinth I made
As we both try to find our way out; I utter ‘ To Go… To Go’
I want to be out from there… if possible faster than they can make the coffee
‘Name….? Name….? Name….?’
Name? for a coffee… Just coffee, its weekend and you are beautiful….but
my coffee… my simple coffee…
‘Jack.. John,… Paul… Tim…. Time… Time… Yes Time… it’s Time’ I complete
I look back and all the people behind me have their drinks in their hand
why are they standing behind me?

Advertisements


Categories: Poetry

Tags: , , ,

Leave a Reply

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

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com 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

%d bloggers like this: