April 9th - Pavement Cafes
I wonder about the simplicity of the people that I see
Lingering quietly outside, in streets, in boulevard cafes.
Reading Sunday newspapers and drinking wines or teas, espressos.
And (I think) just simply living out their days
In a kind of quiet and tragic form of solitude.
Are they fulfilled in what they’re doing or do they feel alone.
They rest their elbows on the table. Sometimes wallets, sometimes papers
But never once have I seen one with a mobile phone.
Just a ballet of thoughts inside a mind floating above
An obsolete chequered table cloth balanced on a cobbled street
Listening to the accordionist in the nearby square
As they very slowly tap their feet.
