At Café Joe Moka

Rain drizzling incessantly;
a bracing wind drives leaves in haphazard patterns;
branches nervously sway
as if to the horn-laden beat melody
wafting from the café’s tinny sound system
with a rhythm so charmingly infectious,
even the ancient Acadian in the corner
taps his scruffy runners against the oft-trodden oak floor.

Chipper chatterbox waitresses
defy the woeful gloom of the weather,
buzzing and bustling across the room,
balancing steaming bowls of rooibos and ramen
for veterans in the venerable art of conversation,
while solitary screen addicts crunch dried kale.

The ultra-cool biker with haunting eyes
breathes teasingly
upon the nectarine-hued neck of his kohl-eyed playmate,
as she shivers with surreptitious lust
I squint my eyes, spy out the scene,
and know I’m home.

Adrian Slonaker lives in Lancaster, Pennsylvania, USA, working as a copywriter and copy editor, with interests that include vegetarian cooking, Slavic languages, Victorian horror fiction, wrestling, and 1960s pop music. Adrian’s work has appeared in Better Than Starbucks, cc&d, and Dodging the Rain, and publication in Ginosko Literary Journal is forthcoming.

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