In The Coffee Shop I Have A Tramezzini Poem by Gert Strydom

In the coffee shop I have a tramezzini
and a big jug of coffee-latté
see some strangers passing
avoid eye contact, read the local paper

before walking to the queue
when a buss pulls up and I take
a blue plastic covered seat, sitting alone,
opening a notebook, starting to write poetry.

At the next stop a pretty slim blonde
takes the seat across from me
and I get a view of a long leg
clad in pantyhose

and she pulls out a book
from her big handbag
and she gets lost
in Shakespeare's sonnets

and she must the be romantic kind
and suddenly she looks up
with the most beautiful bleu eyes
and blushing asks in Afrikaans

the meaning of:
"his compeers by night giving him aid"
and before I know it
she's sitting right next to me

and I explain that compeers
are usually seen as equals
or maybe nightly companions
but it is probably referring back

to the line "by spirits taught to write
above mortal pitch." She then notices
the leather-covered notebook
and pick it up, opens it and reads

and are astonished that it is poetry,
maybe more by the words
and the lines
and suddenly she's engrossed with me.