Tonight's Poet Corner: Paying Customer

Paying Customer
by Belinda Roddie

A dozen strangers around me stir sticks
into lukewarm brew, the tea too steeped,
the sugar too sweet, the coffee too weak,
and the entire atmosphere lacking heat.

I sit in the corner with a lost boy book,
where the crumbs settle against my
half-eaten fingernails - neither savory,
neither satisfying. A worker confronts me.
He asks me if I am to order a cup of
potion to calm my nerves. If not, I must
soothe myself elsewhere, with softer
attitudes and dimmer expectations.

"Have you read this book?" I ask,
and my voice has a pulse. "There is death,
but there is also hope." He ignores the
sentiment of a reader. I find a seat outside.
The wind is cold, the pavement scorching.
Words are absent, the print faded. The
ink becomes hard to scour,
and I am desperate for strangers.