Cafe Stories

The cafe is slow and steady but my writing is sporadic, hiding between thoughts of four hundred word challenges and how I have to get the hair out of the bathroom sink. Images from “The Ring” whistle by and I notice a wasp kill a random bug outside the cafe window. Or maybe it was his own butt the whole time. I’ll never know. The truth is I didn’t feel like writing about the wasp or anything else happening right in front of me but I couldn’t make up anything else more interesting.

The Awake Version

Time passes so fast

once my eyes close

There are times

I close them to think for just a second

And when I opened them

The hours had passed me by like a shooting star

Sometimes I don’t even realize my eyes had closed

And I dream that my day goes on as usual

Then I wake up and realize nothing has been done

Oh so frustrating sometimes that life has to be the awake version of things.



The doors open as wide as a fishes mouth

Not a squeak to em

The sun it shines into the dead silent hallway

beams dance on the floor

Wiggling to some translucent beat

I’m sure it’s not my heartbeat

Shadows scatter

I freeze to admire the sight

I stand still

confident in the shadows return

But hoping the beams dance a bit longer

And hoping they return