Cup of Silly

Coffee.

A well deserved soother
from the hectic bustle
at the oasis of a secluded gem
still holding out against the hype
and serves a plain black one
in a world of decaf hypocrisy
and maple nut fudge frappuchinos.

I get my fix and
settle in a corner,
scanning the ever familiar
walls and the not always
familiar faces.

Single sippers tonight.

A woman smiles at me
in a not only polite way,
giving my ego
an innocent little micro-boost
to store away for future use.

She might not have noticed
14 carats curved around my finger
or maybe she just don't care.

Or maybe I think
too highly of myself?

It happens, I suppose.

The punky waitress
bored stiff of power ballads
and Phil Collins
extends an arm
an skims the FM band
to a more urban beat.

And then it happens.

Ice-T on the radio.
Ice tea in her glass.
Eyes teasing me
from over the frosted rim.

What a sweet little lapse of logic.
What a silly little flunk of faith.

I feel it coming
and I can't hold it in.
With my dumb little giggle
erupting into laughter,
her seductive grin fades awayy,
her embarrassed eyes looks down,
and for future reference
I will always be
that coffee shop freak.

I can live with that,
I still got my plain black one.

And she did smile.