Cafe Serendipity

unbelievable aesthetics glanced at me
across the murmuring tables, she seemed
cinnamon to my latte lips
with a hint of sugar that her companion
could not recognise; tumbling dow jones
defined his frame of mind and her silence
a pertinent question that hung in their air
like the in-house jazz tunes
no one else but the lonesome
bother to listen.

like ocean deep her eyes looked, blue
as the crying thought that often wails
like a saxophone and watery translucent
like a thought yearning to express; as if to say
life really needs to be more decaf sometimes,
an idea so alien in this place where we sat
like formless steam that disappears from quenching mugs
into the nether world of casual glances
and the paradise of what-ifs