Café

Tucked into a breath

between a barbershop

and newsstand,

a wedge of calm

unfazed by scissor snips

and prying eyes,

this café is refuge

to old men

sipping coffee.

The waitress walks

on soundless shoes.

Silence is the space

between quarters

on the counter.

Silence is the sun

sparkling off the tip jar.

Within these doors,

hush is heaven.

A café that is hidden

from the bedlam of the day.

published in Paddler Press Volume 7 “Silence,” republished on Garden of Neuro