untitled

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Writing a poem about a pretentious coffee shop with the express intention of reciting it at the pretentious coffee shop is, like, all clever and shit.

You park your car and slam the door
(parallel park like they taught you
in high school)
your engine ticks as you run
across the street
and check your reflection in the window
on the way in

inside the cafe
you drink your coffee and tap your pen
against your teeth
while the cool kids
sit in tight little circles
around heavy wooden tables
and everybody has a notebook

(and you wish it would rain
because yesterday the wind
blew the dead
leaves in tight little circles
and the sould of the dead
leaves on the pavement
was like running water
and you knew it was raining
somewhere)

so you lose your car keys
down your third or fourth
cup and now your coffee
tastes like brass
and it stings your tongue
but it doesn't burn

and when you go outside
there's an ugly brown cat
asleep on your hood
(they like the warmth of the engine
and you can't leave
because you swallowed your car keys

so you go back inside
and cleverly (because you're
feeling clever tonight)
you write "Car keys $1.00"
on the menu
and you order some

but the girl smiles, sadly
& says "I'm sorry
we're fresh out. How about
some pizza?"

And you think about it
and even start to reach
in you pocket
but you stop
because for two dollars a slice
they could at least
throw in some car keys.