he sat in a large upholstered chair
a cafe table beside his elbow
on the table was a smoking cup of spicy
black coffee
on his knees laid his writing board and
paper
he held his inevitable pen keenly like a razor
in his hand
he sat in a popular coffeehouse and sat
where he afforded himself a view of the shops entry
and without through its broad clean windows and within
overlooking most of the other tables and chairs
he also sat alongside where an
occasional line of patrons assembled waiting to order and be served the varieties
of hot and cold coffee teas and concoctions
sweets fruits and sandwiches were displayed
at their hips and beckoned from a purring bank of white cooling appliances
his ears were tickled by the hum of
closeheld conversations and smatterings
brief percolations of laughter
and
over these laid strands of piped music like lace to bind the whole of the shop
into some Common or Market minting orgasmic reveries
piqued by
caffeine Torani and fragrant steamed milk conducted and manipulated by house
baristas and an insistent chorus of clerks
moment by moment stories were either
hinted at or revealed themselves
some sly
eerie some outrageously
provocative and others devastatingly
poignant
they happened faster than he could
witness and wriote
but to-day this day
riotous under dark unexpected rain and the sharp tines of hail
an odd thing occurred
odd
perhaps by perceptions no longer applicable yet no matter
he found them offensive
young women were affording young men
coffees and sweets on sleek credit or debit cards flashed from their coloured
purses or wallets
an affluence that was not theirs
they were not much beyond their milk
teeth
and what was theirs were apparently
afforded by their parents in absentia who either ignorantly or negligently coddled their daughters
frankly
what were they teaching them
what were these sons taught
that these . . . transactions . . were legitimate and not contrived
and their seemingly conscious
participation in their renditions its
guilelessness
or duplicitousness
suggested to him their Slutwalks had
faltered and in their stead their faces were to be fucked their legs split wide and agape their asses for fondling and grabbing
did they think so little of themselves
or was to-day simply a bad day the inexplicable weather running out those
who were ignorant or thoughtless
he managed his knee-jerk irritation struggled
then cooled off and observed
when he quit the coffeehouse the tally
was three to none
three smiling young women abetted by
smiling young men
men
-- or so-called --
never once going to their pants pockets for cash or alluding in
conversation -- at least that he overheard -- and
he was listening hard -- that they were short or it was their treat
the next time
instead they acted as if they were some
prize worthwhile having and in the meantime
derogatory to the stature that
real men would bring to the table
with his writing board and paper stabbed
up in his armpit and walking out he
muttered
--
Slacked-spine lily-livered
(Christ - hed
never conceived of lily-livered before)
little
pricks
at home with his girlfriend they prepared
a good meal he cooked for them
over dinner they talked laughed and
confided their days
he didnt make the afternoon a
nuisance
she
would read it later when he wrote it
when they went to bed they made
love keen to pleasure each other and exhausted they slipped into dreams that
swelled and roiled like slick soap bubbles glinting in warm blue sunlight and shined cool by silver moonlight against the black void of outer space
1600, Friday,
8 2. 13
Wallace
Stevens
