Monday, July 04, 2011


she waited at the café close to the sea
the waiter seemed nervous
about the fit of her dress
he spilled a few ice cubes from her tea

he strolled the sandy lanes serenaded by sun
the shade buzzed
with summer sounds
he always walked the quietest ones

she drifted in waters of so many thoughts
the ice cubes crackled
in the sweat of her glass
her skirt folds fluttered when the breeze was caught

today he turned onto a busier street
a woman glanced
from the shade of a café
if he stopped for a moment their eyes would meet


the walking man said...

I like the scene but I think your pronouns have been skewered by using "he" when speaking of the waiter dropping a few ice cubes. It seems to my eye that every "he" after that is the waiter. Or was that your intent?

Lee said...

Did he stop???

ms pie said...

life is so like that... beautifully expressed.... i like the poetic style of the story...

Anonymous said...

Walking Man, that's a good point. That snarled me writing it too. This piece and the next one were written rushed. I would have liked more time to let the piece happen on its own, but I didn't have it.

Lee, yes, you caught that ambiguity. :) I suppose we bring our own perspectives as we read, and that's what fascinates me. I put a lot in the hands of readers. For me, I want him to stop. I really do. But I have a nagging feeling that he didn't.

Ms. Pie, many thanks! Some stories just fit better as poetry.

nghia said...

Perfect! No videos or even films could do better than your writing! :)

nghia said...

Perfect poem! Not even a movie could do do better than you! :D i love it so much