Sipping tea at Le Cafe See bamboo chairs Reflect sorrows of afternoon, Dust bursts off my tongue Songs of bygone Sheepish glance at shady glass. Then, for the fourth time I observe the clock- Have a date with the Mountain Will he come by? Trumpet blasts at crow’s tune Air is intense- spit and angst Blow the throats of Disguised pawns Breasts sigh as girls Slide at sideways tide Stains surface on my white tie A frog mourns a lost lagoon- Have a date with the Mountain Will he come by? Rain now drops in dismal pace A mere glance to casual mate Oozes streams of sweat and haze Birds trade wings to random crumbs I am a goon longing for past A twig waves to passing lark Willing to bark- Have a date with the Mountain Will he come by?