Café con Leche

With a warm cup

And the company of my pen

I stare out the open window

Spying as a hidden observer

Quietly noting what I see

The breeze teases the curtains

As a foreign world floats by

Like an old play seen long ago

Comfortable, but renewed

In slow motion, but so familiar…

A handsome couple walks hand in hand

To share a pastry at old Tortoni’s

A bartender with a handlebar mustache

Carries chairs out to patio tables in a crisp apron

Lines form outside small family bakeries

Lured in by the sweet air of baguettes leaving the oven

Drivers running late are forced to wait at stoplights

Their lips impatiently sipping maté through silver bombillas

Thin women with knock-off purses gather in the promenade

To proudly show off their superficial elegance

and let smoke rise slowly from the dwindling end of their cigarettes

An elderly man wearing a felt beret opens the door

For his wife who uses a cane with quiet dignity

Dapper suits draped in long overcoats whirl by

With cell phones buzzing in busy ears

The squabble of pigeons congregates

Over geometrically arranged red bricks in the plaza

Aristocratic men with dark slicked hair greet on the corner

With a smile and a brief kiss on both cheeks

A flower vendor peddles the colors of his cart

Wandering the sidewalk to stop at every kiosk

I sit still, stirring the cream into my coffee

And savor the sights of another cup

…  …  …

More poetry

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