Before Noon Poem by Aneta Popova

Walking through the corridor
he left the building
hit the road with a hard
firm sole
leapt over the speeding trunks
full of velvet dreams
in leather suitcases
grabbed the newspaper from
the old shoe cleaner with welded legs
on the pavement
it was a love letter actually
slid in a chic manner
while reading the lead words
smoked
toasted on the paper
and landed on the tiny chair
in the bistro
très sympathique
on the right side of the street
in clear trance
just realized
glanced through all the
acres and the pert frontiers
with just a blink
with just a scratch
it was some other place
but the right spot
to begin
he cutout the words
spread them out in the wind
Our legacy is to be patriots of the world
was his last thought
before the coffee entered his stomach
smiled in disguise
under the squashy beard.
On noon
she got the letter.