A Sonnet For Cola

She lay a mess upon the kitchen floor,

The breath of life so shallow, faint and slow.

I lifted her and placed her at my cheek,

A feline moan escaped her harsh and low.

Onto the bed we lay, our favorite spot

To lap the suns low streaks before it set.

Her scrawny frame atop my chest reclined,

I dreamed I heard her purring no regret

Death came into the room with doctors bag,

Soft spoken and polite but deadly still.

Administering tranquilizing peace,

Allowing us to euthanize not kill

Oh, Cola, kitty-cat, you furry beast!

Our laps are cold, your dish is gone away.

Your presence was for us a loving feast,

While you were on this earth you lit our day.

Quote of the Day

"A banker can write a hundred bad poems and no one cares.  A poet writes one bad check and all hell breaks loose"

Come Again?

         Perched conspicuously on wooden benches, coffee’s in hand from the sorely neglected Bakery across the street, we watched the parade. One by one or sometimes in pairs or small groups people would turn the corner onto 181st street just off of Ft. Washington Avenue and pass us on the bench as they made there way to the first door on the North side of the street.

         Starbucks had opened this particular outpost midway in its metastasizing of Manhattan. Us northerners had embraced the arrival of the ubiquitous SB as a sign that our neighborhood was up and coming. If the corporate headquarters of the giant coffee grinder had taken notice of our little spot near the Hudson, way off the top part of tourist maps by seventy blocks, then all was not hopeless in our wish to be included. Since the opening six or so years ago folks had gotten used to squeezing into this corner Starbucks with little seating and imagining a day when the sights outside the window bore some resemblance to Columbus Avenue anywhere in the seventies. Well not today.

One by one or in pairs or small groups they were greeted by a darkened interior and a small sign claiming the unfortunate closing was short term and only for minor renovations. The reactions of people were as varied as could be and a most humorous entertainment for the two of us, perched on Starbuck’s wooden benches, sipping a competitors brew. 

Some halted, unable to put two and two together. One man was so confused that he took two quick steps back, checking the awning, then looked to the corner, then around behind him, as if the entire block had shape-shifted for an instant. Satisfied that he was in the correct universe he contemplated the closed door, read the sign and wandered away. One person (only one) had a positive outlook. “Oh, good” she said, “maybe there will be more seating”. Others grunted, or cursed, indicating that a good portion of their day was either ruined or in need of recalibration. A few couldn’t believe it, or wouldn’t accept it. They would peer in as if to make sure that a party wasn’t going on inside that they weren’t invited to. Seeing only ladders they sighed and walked away. We laughed quietly, sometimes making eye contact. One young woman, after a mild but disappointed exclamation caught my sympathetic look. “it’s tragic!” she said, and we laughed, “its ruined my whole day”!

        Come again? Oh, I think they will. And the bakery across the street will recover from the unexpected business, and Lattes and Baristas will once again be in Da Heights.