bead of sweat, cup of coffee
touching each bead of sweat
with each new customer she met
appearing on the back of my hand
wondering where would he land
sitting on wood, waiting for no good
this podium of coffee
flavoured with so sweet toffee
the waitress spoke; nearly made me choke
in the air; do we really care
and big wide smiles
they come from miles
applause for crumpling suits of linen, wet hair and questions
taking any suggestions
heads under umbrellas through misty glass
some eyes flickering smiles, some so crass
where did this day go
do I really want to know
cup is empty, like the street
bad idea, this shall we meet
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