Cafe Milano

A wavy blond guitar neck
sprouts from a vase
Notes hang on its clef strings
echoing the wavy hair
of the girl reading below
as she plays with her fingers

I do the same writing

Painted dreams

in jungle wood frames

The impression of bricks

embossed by grout

Brown hands cut bread
garnish salads

The smell of burnt cheese
rises to the open sky
between brown rafters

Bright young minds
fill the air with conversation
between open laptops

Outside, a bright yellow crane
a palm tree, a satellite dish
rooftops and power lines

The human atmosphere
itching with hope