She sits alone at a corner table
As the harbour floats into and out of view
Her eyes flit from page to page enraptured
She is captured as she ponders upon that which matters
To her, that is this life, that is her truth
This perticular lesson is Sartre
She smirks as something resounds
The church bells chime noon
And then into the pristine white noise they drown
Beans are ground and she gives pause
The aroma takes over and such is her cause
A simple pleasure, oh how she indulges her sensory
Nostrils filled she exhales contentedly
Allowing the connection to enable the drift
Unlocking the memories she keeps as a gift
(Whilst letting the warmth of the cup charm her fingertips)
It is the look that adorns her face
An expression forlorn though worn with grace
It is enough to make a heart break
Until she smiles at the bittersweetness
Observing her observer with feminine obliqueness
It is as if she marvels at the beauty of her own sadness
Cherishing a moment so rare
She closes the book and loosens her hair with care
Her fingers as delicate as the motion
She uses to get up from the chair
Offering the softest thing
In the form of a thank you and a smile
To the rooms elemental eloquence
And to the cafe itself, for serving her experience
She floats out into the daytime
As if she was raised/rays-ed by sunshine
A fragrant summer breeze wraps the dress
And caresses her lithe curves
As old men share dirty words true to thier caricatures
Humming a melody like a reverie
She allows herself to get lost
Finds herself staring off the edge of one of the many docks
Her gaze meanders the maze of diamonds hidden on crests of waves
Almost past the pure ocean
And into another day
The muscle in her chest skips a preprogrammed beat
She is thrilled by it, as with all things unique
It leaves her with a sense of wonder
At the glimpse of Destiny's dream
She whispers under her breath
"I wonder what this means?"

&^&^&^&&^&&^&^&^&^&^&^&&^&^&^&^&^^^&^&^&^&^&^&^^^&^&
^&^&^&^^&^&^^&^&^^&&&&&^^&^&^&^&^&^&^^^&&&^^^^&^&^&^&

He is zombified in the light cast from the laptop
Fingers keep tight time to a caffienated clock
Another report, reportedly nonstop
Of statistics and ratios
And yawns with teardrops
A luxurious stretch ressurrects him from his post
A glance at the door
then the longboard
then thoughts of the coast
The night air is the priest to whom his burdened mind confesses
His body becomes physics as the hill depresses
Feeling most alive with death at arms length
Four wheels succumb to the Pacific's magnetic field strength
Committed and leaning low, taking the corner, worse or for better
The road ends in twilight reflected on darkness forever
Willingly seduced, trading soft sand for speed
The ocean air combs his hair and reminds him to breathe
He is standing under the stars, a dulled silhouette of insignificance
Praying to the ocean and it's imposing magnificance
Riding the tide with his eyes
Almost past the opaque vast
Feels his heart kick but miss the high hat
Holding hands with Fate in that subtle surreal scene
He whispers under his breath
"I wonder what this means?"