Sitting in comfort I watch and listen to the lives and conversations around me

I call it poetic voyeurism

It’s not offensive observation

Just taking a concentrated look at the life going on around me

It’s all out there in the open for all to see

You just have to take a moment and notice

I hear that he does not want it to be that kind of friend

I missed him say what kind of friend that is

Shucks

I started paying attention too late

They are talking about Sam

Behind her back

It might as well be in front of her front because it’s nice stuff

I think I would like Sam

I get the vibe that beard boy and boohoo girl are into each other

But they are just too awkward to really let it be known

A beige guy in grey track pants and a grey winter jacket looks noncommittally at a package of tea that is for sale.

He has an alter ego taste for spice

He’s an extra hot chai tazo tea kind of guy

Who knew?

He didn’t fit the bill

I thought he would be a double double Columbian man

Two little boys and a mom in runners enter the scene

Likely stopping off before an appointment and after school for a snack and a coffee

Mommy smiles at her little hooded clones as they dismember an iced snowman, she takes a nibble and off they go to consume more of their day

Oh no. Someone smiled at me. She made direct eye contact and smiled. I think she is onto my peeping. She is sitting with a friend and perhaps her mother. They are cool, well dressed and hungry. They eat and warm their hands on their Grande selections. Double trouble. The mom just smiled at me too. I better leave them alone for a while before I get busted.

Well here comes an entertaining diversion. Mr. Whipped Cream just sauntered in. He has curly leather elf like shoes and sunglasses perched on his head, dark jeans turned up and an earring.

He orders a Carmel macchiato, and iced cappuccino… with……… you guessed it …whipped cream. I called it. I watch him pose and then move out of the place and into a BMW. The car is his mom’s. She is the chauffeur today I guess.

Then in walks the crème de la crème. I shall call her Madame Louis Voutton. I’m guessing a fake but she rocked the look; leather pumps, black suit, red nails, grey leopard top, Persian lamb fur coat. She had it going on. She met and equally well dressed friend, definitely corporate but with a clearly artistic bent. She was busy tapping away on a laptop and chuckling to herself.

Bye for now.