Cafe 2010

A Poem by Douglas Caraballo

Photo by Rok Zabukovec on Unsplash

In the West Village,
before time change,
and beer detox.
I sat in a cafe
ordering apple pies,
ice cream and wine.
All the youth and faded
professors enamored with
dead legends and old family photos
sat with me.
There, hoping to capture the rumors
of a phantom essence
shying its way through the city.