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withoutane — Vics
Published: 2002-09-11 13:43:09 +0000 UTC; Views: 84; Favourites: 0; Downloads: 10
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Description
Vic'sbecause I spend alot of time inside,
because there's crazies there,
because they can't be left with my books and pens,
alone is a way I don't have alot of time to be.
Right now I'm alone outside a coffee shop
my roommate's in the bank next door,
as far as I can tell
he's shy and been walking back and forth
eyes never crossing over
that bank teller counter.
Only one in eight's a man,
coffee customers that is,
the only two men are old and in the corner
they're talking politics
in new york I imagine they would have a chess board
instead alternative newspapers from a stack at the door,
this is boulder.
There's a woman who I imagine
comes here every day
and she does, for breakfast in a paper bag
a paper cup coffee morning jumpstart.
I can't stop noticing
all the lives that I don't know
where to start with
and that if this was starbucks
how different she would be:
I would hate her.
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Comments: 2
i agree completely with this poem.. but i think that is because you and i are both closed minded people and simultaneously hate close minded people. no offence. I mean, if vic's were starbucks, oh man there would be hell to pay. assumptions are dangerous. if the woman were to be a starbucks, it does not mean she is defined by starbucks. and heh, if she were at starbucks in the poem, you would be at starbucks as well, and hate yourself for it. everyone is closed minded. don't expect other people to understand this poem sam, the reason for that is there IS no point or direction to it. i mean, if everyone had been to vic's before and felt the atmosphere and sat outside and tried to imagine the details of other's lives, and remembered the days in middle school when they went to moe's, and watched the passing cars in the parking lot and on broadway, and remembered when they sled down the "big hill" at casey in the winter, and just sat and felt the history behind it all..... what i am trying to say is there is no direction in this poem other than the direction of an incomplete and reminisant life. i can feel the slow moving day full of nothing but coffee, memories, and an uncertain future. but the future is not important here because you are there, then, in that present at vic's, sipping a mocha. you conveyed the feeling perfectly.
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Now if only I could figure out the point or direction of this poem... :-\
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