Coffeehouse Conversion

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Coffeehouse Conversion


I retreat my reality and leave the muddle behind.


I sit before a pale, bedraggled-looking, piece of paper and I swear that it winks at me.


With a coffee in my left hand and a pen in the right, it begins.  All things have now become possible.


My poverty dissolves as I’m ushered into another world.  My failures fade away then words spill out of my ordinary pen, the very one that my hand so firmly guides.  Or does it really?


Somehow, I think not!  I am befuddled and bewildered as the pen demonstrates a mind of its own.  I humbly submit before its wisdom.  After all, what do I know?


The left hand mechanically delivers the bitter, and now cold, coffee to my lips. I obediently sip it without notice. It doesn’t really matter when the pen rules me like a lord and master.


What happens now is a strange mystery as I ponder things I had never before considered.  I am baffled, bemused even, and I like it!


The sounds of the café have ceased and the murmurings along with them.


The grumpy and glaring woman, seated at the next table, has disappeared along with the pungent stench of her decades-old, gone-rancid, perfume.  Goodbye!


Time has lost all dominion.  My pen sneers at its claim over me, over it.  So many questions confront me with infinite possibilities that follow.


Indeed, I never know just what will happen when I escape my reality and reject the clutter endangering me…


By Wendy Welk


Coffeehouse Conversion




Wendy Welk was born in Alberta, Canada and spent her formative years stargazing and joyfully playing in the snow. Wendy's poems have appeared in newspapers and magazines. She lives with her son and is still a fan of snow!
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