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I notice four empty chairs in the window, facing the street.
Two men huddled in a corner, discussing plans laid out on a table.
I notice a skinny woman in Picasso stripes, bug-eyed sunglasses
nesting in mousey hair, bad split ends, always looking down.
Two skinny moms hunched over a table, talking fast in plumby voices.
I notice a happy young dad in a faded yellow t-shirt, greeting
all the girls as he stoops to retrieve litter. They keep walking
as he grins.
I notice the woman perched like a crow on the edge of a seat,
meticulously fingering an electric tablet on her knees like a
perfumed gargoyle.
I notice the old blonde in leopard print, rubbing her palms
together as if in prayer.
I notice the gut on the old bloke younger than me in his t-shirt,
faded, tucked into the belt of his jeans.
I notice the old blonde leaving, how frail she walks, how elegant
she stands.
I notice the smile on the woman entering the room, swinging a
handbag like she’s just received the best news & wonder what she
looks like without her glasses?
I notice the crow woman wears golden pumps & a knitted poncho
in summer.
I notice the same girl I see every morning, older than her years.
The way she locks her hands together, carrying her bag like the
old women shoppers of my youth.
I notice a stack of cheap gold bangles rattling round her wrists.
Her pale powdered face looks like that famous actress in
Alice in Wonderland.
She says,
“Hello Babe!: when she greets other women.
She always talks about her boyfriend, but sits alone.
I notice the crow woman, joined by a woman with hair like
Joan of Arc, carrying a silver glitter shopping bag.
I notice a plump voiced stick woman enter the room, sunglasses
nesting in her mousey hair, a nervous smile, unsure what to do
with her arms. They remain stiff by her side as she walks like a
teenage boy.
I notice how fear in my stomach makes it hard to eat.
I notice the accent of the crow woman is Spanish or Italian.
She talks without taking breath, holding a half eaten slice of
white buttered toast in the air, between her talons. Actually,
it’s Italian.
I notice the room is mostly full of women.
I notice the one with what looks like a leech tattooed on her ankle.
I notice the forty-something couple, well groomed, both blonde,
both wearing matching denim shirts. He lifts a twenty from his
wallet, she plucks it from him, smiling, sunglasses nesting in
her air. He beams down at her like they’ve just had a hot night.
I notice the two men huddled over plans in the corner, one says,
“It doesn’t bother me!” in an East London accent.
I notice the well groomed blonde in the denim shirt sat alone in
the window, light glancing of the sunglasses nesting in her hair
as she looks up & down the street, waiting for her man.
And here he comes!
Tom Petty sings ‘Free-falling’ as the underscore.

(K)