At a cafe

Outside the double pane glass the busy street plays out as a forgotten ballet. We all are the dancers stepping onto the pliable pavement. The music played is the confined cacophony of our stray thoughts. From behind this window, I undertake small moments of rest and nurishmet before my toes tap along the varied players aside from me. Darting eyes with blind looks signal mounting shifts in formation as the flickers of overhead lights guide the metal chariots to motion. One last bite from my warm dish and the fizz from my carbonated drink sets the tone to more a relaxed feeling. Much like a jazz man I float between sung words and memories. Back to the dance I go as my break is over.