Ah, that is sweet! It's nice to be missed. There have been a couple of interruptions to my visits to the cafe. Besides, the weather prevents me from sitting outdoors and I haven't yet got used to my indoor lenses.Originally Posted by ampoule
Where are you, Prince? Are you out snapping more pictures? The way you see people makes me want to.....see people.
A girl, as thin
as a wafer, goes by
in one direction, followed,
in the other, by a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen
In a doorway,
tucked out of the cold wind,
a man with a ruined face
and watery, beseeching eyes,
attends to his cigarette
Lovely contrast
"A wafer thin girl..." and
"...a Khassid,
as shapeless as a pile
of freshly-washed black linen"
The descriptions of two wildly different women, unless of course, the mysterious Khassid is also a wafer thin girl. Delicious to think about.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perhaps the man's cigarette is the only fire available in a frozen cityscape.
Last edited by Makai; 01-08-2009 at 09:32 AM.
The Khassid I had seen was male. Kassidic women do not (as far as I know) wear black as their daily garb but the most extraordinarily drab dresses and stockings that resemble the orthopaedic sort, and of course wigs.
Thanks for clarifying Prince, I was thinking ir was something else.
Feb. 5/09
A man approaches the café,
reels as if from the cold,
his gloveless hands
drawn deep inside
the sleeves of his parka,
enters, speaks for a moment
with the counterman.
then leaves.
Pom-pom bobbing
atop his wool tuque,
a guy with his entire face
organized around a mile-wide smile
plows his way
along Côte-des-Neiges Road
I love these short poems of yours. Little cliff hangers! And often profound!
I would like to meet him. I love people! I like these!
Then she would run until morning to ease the ache; swifter than rain, swift as loss, racing to catch up with the time when she had known nothing at all but the sweetness of being herself.
-- Peter S. Beagle, The Last Unicorn
This is delightful -- your opening line drew me in, and as I read I knew I'd not be disappointed. You always paint such a perfect picture of your visions in your poetry. I pictured the fellow's huge apple cheeks, rosy in the morning frost, and a thick accent français to boot!
Added bonus -- PrinceMyshkin has spelled the mystery word here once and for all. I never know how to spell tuque.
p.s. A person from another country was asked one day by a news person with Canadian Trivia questions -- 'what is a tuque'. Only about two people out of ten or twelve knew what it was. And a wopping fifty percent of the incorrect answers were that it was a 'lady's undergarment'... Oh the injustice of the wonderful tuque...
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
~Albert Einstein
Young women
wheel their babies by
in strollers.
It’s like a mobile museum
of freshly-painted masterpieces
I love them all on this page, how you look at an ordinary person on an ordinary day and see a masterpiece.
"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
"Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka
Leaving the cafe
I come face to face
with a much younger man,
hair like red brick
just after a rain
and a moustache to match.
“Nice moustache,” I say,
pointing at it. “Thanks,” he says.
Broad smile. “You, too.”
Beautiful.
Our task must be to free ourselves by widening our circle of compassion to embrace all living creatures and the whole of nature and its beauty
~Albert Einstein
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