by Eugenia Macer-Story
When sun’s light shuts off computer window
Or lightning folds the house in soft electric
Fog of thin light, plans of the past
Do not necessarily go “auto-future”.
I’d thought to glimpse back to meet you
But in the remodeled café, no time window
Permits. Must be papered up more than formica deep.
New menu glossy with pre-printed choices
I choose “today’s special” lettered on index card
Scope young couple next booth arguing over “Dutch Treat”
Recall you ordered trout in a clean sport shirt
Today I ordered salmon. This was where you said;
“I saw you sitting over there in a different coat.”
Pointing to nowhere, an empty table
& I knew you were mad or really time-tripping
Today here in a different coat, I sit
Looking for the time window but maybe
It’s a one way view.
Luckily I don’t see into the dingy past here
They have removed the empty spaces
& framed certificates and menus hang
On the fourth wall of the glass-sided vestibule
But just as I feel I may have bent time trip
Into some fake magic peek-a-boo window
A stranger in a clean sports shirt
Ordering in the booth behind me
Tells the waiter I have propositioned him
But he has no time for that stuff today
Because he lives in Brooklyn and it is raining.
Last updated May 01, 2015