coffee n cigarettes
prose

cafe

in a dingy n damp café on the downtrodden side of a slowly crumbling dairy town , painful moans n aches from unemployed laborers n farmers hush / d the whistling of the rarely boil / d tea Kettle , while deep cooling sighs chill / d the steaming hot blacK coffee – cream consider / d a rich man ‘ s luxury – coffee always served blacK , no need for the waitress to asK , chain – smoKe john player ‘ s standard size cigarettes for the men , regular sized for the stay – at – home moms , slims for the ladies of antiquity n pipes w / pungent tobacco smoKe for retired war vets , clouds stale an air that heavies , choKingly , cancerous puffs of relaxation exhaled to stain the walls a deeper , more depressing shade of off – white / stain / d yellow , low wattage lightbulbs above the booths n bar stools stain the eyes to maKe out scars n wrinKles on the sad faces of adults w / nothing to do , besides shanKingly circle potential jobs in the local newspaper , jobs they Know they ‘ ll hate , postpone ambition forever while waving down the worn – out , limp / d waitress for free refills , no tips , until nerves are shot n can ‘ t sit any longer n then it ‘ s off to browse the mall ‘ s aisles , aimlessly .

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