Originally published in my high school’s literary journal, 2004.
She’s a troubadour of the coffee house
And the caffeinated lifestyle
With a familiar sense for the change in seasons.
Her luminous autumn voice
And breathy, acoustic melodies
Enwrap me like the starry-print blanket
My friend spun for me
(She knows me so well)
And sometimes I am so blind
To everything but its gray underside
Which obscures my perception.
The stars envelope me
On this clear December evening,
And while the chain-smoker in front of me
Breathes out billows of colorless fog,
I fail to notice (or care)
And I can still breathe
As long as the unpolluted melody
Fills the air
And my celestial cover
Keeps me safe
From the ominous spirit
That happens to be passing
Through the atmosphere.
A few observations:
- It was very difficult to resist the temptation to edit this.
- I had a few favorite words to use in poetry when I was a teenager. Almost all of them appear in this poem (celestial, atmosphere, ominous, troubadour, envelope, luminous)
- Ok, now I have to turn those into a sestina.
- Can you still smoke in coffee shops?
Read more of my work from 2004 (😮): Early December
