Spring Rain

Raindrops fall

down plastic umbrellas of dark coffee shops
musty with the stench of coffee beans mixed with deep thoughts.
Women stir their half –empty cups;
speaking fast,
speaking slow;
whispering.

Sinatra coos slow songs as men
watch people scurry through wet streets;
time to spare
time to kill
time to save.

Thick books with thin pages
lay open as the teenager drifts longingly
to sunny days,
to schooless days,
to better days.

The rain drips
and drips
and drips.

As we drown spending days
stuck in limbo,
dancing in limbo;
in raindrops that fall like the heavy beat of a heart.

Merciless.

Strewn across coffee tables,
T.S. Elliot
whispers secrets of what
the thunder said.
Notes in margins,
scratched in pencil.

Miserable at best as
I watch puddles on the coffee shop floor.
Rain drops dance down plastic umbrellas
Whispering.