The Riverview Cafe In The Morning Poem by Ann Stanley

You stroll by the river,
seeking,
cross the road to the Riverview
and get your dog to lie on the ground.
You step inside, order a latte,
then duck back out,
holding your Spirax notebook
and the intimacy of your
sadness.
You want people to know all about you,
but not today.
The girl brings your coffee.
Cheers, you say, flicking the sugar.
It’s one of those cafes
where the owners smoke
and drink short blacks
at the tables outside.
Ducatis, Kawasakis and Landcruisers roll in.
They’re here every morning
so everyone confers a little.
Smoke drifts over,
you drink the coffee,
and write in the Spirax what you can.
There must be some point
in writing down what you ponder
here in this café,
other than being near strangers
who admire your dog
and know what to do
between morning and night