STARBUCKS, TUESDAY, 3:36 P.M.

An ex-con brags to his cronies,
loudly spouting religion
along with dirty jokes

while a middle-aged guy in sunglasses
leers at teenage girls
giggling in their caramel macchiatos.

The entrance of a single mother,
breasts in serving bowls,
daughter clinging to her skirt,

arrests a sottish vagrant’s
mumbling, but doesn’t stop
his ejaculating a loud “hey”

which unnerves the old lady
stirring cream into her medium
dark-roast-of-the-day.

And across from me a young women
in a black trench coat sees nothing;
writes urgently in a little book,

filling pages in fine print—
seems she's unaware
that her latte’s getting cold.

THE OCCASIONAL FIRE

POEMS
Life Scroll
Spirit Wings
Death in the Family
Flight Chief
Legacy
Honeymoon Photo, October, 1939
49 Chevy
The Seed of Me
Land of Rest
On Allison's Leaving
Telecom's Bequest
Starbucks, Tuesday, 3:36 p.m.
Action Still
Vital Meaning
Fools

HYMNS
God will not let us go
The rising sun blazed out of night
Light! Light! A shattering light
Worship the Lord
As a doe

ABOUT MARK RHOADS