Cafe

The guy leaning against the wall outside
the bar across the street, smoking
before going back inside
after greeting a few regulars
going in for lunch.

The street sweeper washing and
sweeping the lanes of the dust
from the construction in the adjacent lot,
a crane reflected in the windows
across the street.

The locals going by walking dogs,
chatting with each other,
pushing carts of their belongings,
carrying groceries, lunches, etc.,
as on their way somewhere.

The noise of the radio station
from the speakers around the cafe,
the espresso machine and dishwasher,
the conversations between friends
sharing coffee and food.

The noise of the accordion buses
at the bus stop in front of the cafe,
people shouting greetings to friends,
cars with radios turned up loud,
sirens blaring in the distance.

People standing, waiting for their bus,
milling, then in line to step up and
pay their fare or swipe their card
for a ride somewhere as the schedule
shows in the digital board.

Riders departing, avoiding the line
of boarders, to turn and walk away
to somewhere, often in a hurry
as their time is precious to be
somewhere they planned or want.

Patrons walking into the cafe,
to stand in line and hear
the barista ask, "The regular?",
with a nod of agreement and
their money or card in hand.

Single customers, most regulars,
silently reading newspapers or books,
some working on computers,
some checking their smart phones,
and almost all with earphones.

All a dance of people oblivious to
everyone else unless they're in their way,
to be somewhere outside or already
sitting at a table in the Uptown Espresso
cafe on Queen Anne Avenue in Seattle.