For Twiglet #247

A Window Seat at the Café Of course I can, he’s asking if I caneat this entire thing, a bun stuffed fullof stiff whipped cream. He sips his coffee,always black, always hot,and thinks about somethingthat he says is nothing, when I ask. We fall silent. He watches shopperspass the window. I watch a flyon the … Continue reading For Twiglet #247