The Coffee Shop

Gulp and drown,
Sip and escape,
Swallow and let go,
The experience of drinking coffee.

Soft-spoken words,
Echoing clinks,
The scent of Java beans
And Sumatra.
You take in all.

A modern-day barista,
Like a traditional chashitsu,
Tranquility, Attaining the Zen,
In ecelectic beats and cosmopolitan thoughts.

Apples and mice,
Books and newspapers,
Art and aroma,
Thoughts and notes,
Conversation and creativity,
All intertwined,
In this technicolor quilt of life.

The sign in the window reads: "Espresso for the soul".

Being free

What is freedom?

Is it standing by the ocean and letting the waves wash away the day's grime and disquiet ?

Is it drinking hot coffee curled up under a blanket, sitting on the terrace under the starlit night, street lights, whistling winds and rustling leaves keeping you company?

Is it standing atop a mountain, feeling the weight of the world lift up and disappear into the winds?

Is it jumping into a waterfall, eyes wide open, cannon ball stance, secretly dreading and desiring the big splash at the same time?

Whatever it is, it is worth having. And never worth the sacrifice.

Phone Calls

Inspired from movie watched last night
Theme: Repetitive and boring day-to-day phone conversations

"What's up, Mom", she mumbled through the crackling line.
"Ummm... I said what's up?", a little louder this time.
She hated how she always had to do that on international calls. Repeat herself.
"Oh, nothing much... I just got back from work, sitting around. Ya, everything's fine."
Yesterday's four lines repeated today.

"What's up, hon?, she got the tone just right.
Upbeat, just how she's practiced right before dialing his number.
"Umm, nothing much...just got back from a movie with the ladies."
"Why didn't you call me yesterday?", she mocked a fake jovialness.
"Oh... aliright. Ya, everyhting's fine."
Relief laced with disappointment.

"Hiya, what's up?"
"No, not today. How is everything going on your end?"
"That's good to hear. Good. Great."
"Maybe we'll do lunch next week. Ya, everything's fine."
Both lies.

Phone calls or bullshit social conversations?
Distance was in more than just the miles.

The Beholder

She was a show-stopper, a heart-breaker,
A porcelain doll, always perfect and proper.
He was her friend, her confidante,
Uncontrollably in love, but too afraid to touch her.

One day, she was gone
T’was past midnight, no text message or call.
He sat there wondering, is she with another man?
One more deserving of her elegance and charm?

Suddenly there was a weak knock at the door,
His stomach churned as his angel’s eyes he bore.
Grimed and bleeding,
She lay crumpled to the floor.

He cleaned her wounds, and washed her face
And noticed for the very first time,
The wrinkles under her mascara-smudged eyes,
The small freckles on her cheeks usually hidden under pink blush,
The scar on the nape of her neck, old and deep and dramatic.
Always concealed under wisps of foundation.
The frown on her brow created crevasses in her soft, white skin.

He stood stunned.
In her imperfection, she had never looked more beautiful.
He made love to her like never before.

Taming the Beast (aka On Climbing Mountains)

Nausea, saline saliva,
Deep breaths of near-defeat,
One more staggering step, almost held back
By aching quads and lack of will.
No, not one more.

The bass of each heartbeat
Reverberating through my veins.
3,100 ft up, another 1000 to go.
The buzz cajoles another step out of me.

Light-headedness, the mind stops thinking,
The heart is racing on.
Stubborn determination speaking through my fingers,
As they push aside every branch, snap every twig
That obstructs my path.

Snow, mud, filth, sweat, tears, rain,
Or dogs.
I am immune to all.

It is not the spectacular summit sunrise
Or the exuberance of success
Or the shame of failure
Or even the challenge,
That drives me.

It is the simple satisfaction of
Taming the beast. Every time.
Each time. And again.