coffee shop up north on 10th st.

the coffee shop down the road from
where I live has some of the
best pretzels in all of town.
she was wearing a short black
summer dress, just short enough to show
those magnificent legs.

she ordered the vendi latte
and I ordered a coffee,
black.

“I pity the man who finds me beautiful,”
she told me. she took small sips of
her coffee and looked at me.

one of the best things that was wonderful
about the coffee place was the amount of people
that never enjoyed going
there and the ones
that did go
hardly spoke to one another
or interacted with the fellow neighbor.

I respected that, just as much as I
respected death and love and
anything that was similar to the two
things.

“but you’re beautiful, Karen. you have
wonderful legs. and that voice. those eyes.
God, Karen, if you weren’t my best friend …”

she frowned. “you think I’m beautiful, seth?”

“of course. anyone with a dick and brain can see that.”

she shook her head and drank slower.

“I pity you,”
she
said.