Caffe Trieste on San Pablo
I like gathering up these images
So I can tell you about them later:
The dark red walls, the low-hanging
Lamps, the marble-topped little
Tables and the chairs with spindly
Legs. There’s a father in a plaid
Newsboy hat with his daughter hanging
From a contraption on his chest: she
Points her forefinger like Michelangelo’s
Adam, with the same quiet wakening.
A man in a red cardigan and with a
White mustache glances over at me, and
Then I think of him in some kitchen later
Tonight, a gray-haired woman bustling
At the stove while he peeks in the fridge, and
He says, There was this red-haired girl
At Caffe Trieste today down on San Pablo,
A real tall lady, and all she did for hours
Was stare and stare at people.
