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My friends say I smile for all the wrong reasons. —————————————————– Most of the time, I smile for no reason at all. ————————————————– Maybe I was born with a stupid smirk on my face. ————————————————- But whenever I walk into this cafe. ——————————————— And wander into her perfect world. —————————————– This meaningless smile is a…

Why I Keep Coming Back

THE DOOR HAS never swung shut ever since we left it so, creaking on its hinges, slightly broken.  We kept it leaning out a little, as if we agreed its openness was an invitation we would take up when we felt braver to explore the house of our separate strangeness and particular fears. We had…

Tempest In My Coffee Cup

YOUR COFFEE MUG still sits where you left it, half-empty, atop your favorite porcelain, brim smudged with a curious combination of dried froth and pink lipstick. It’s my little testimony, you know, to a life well led and a union I thought was blessed. I never had the heart to move it even as it perches precariously on…

The Last Brew

TIME FOR one last cup. I still dream of coffee. I still dream of dipping my fingers in eddies of swirling froth and suffer the distant warmth fading with the passing of time. I still jump out of bed with a start, disoriented, roused by a whistling kettle that’s never there, struggling with tangled sheets, hoping to catch a…

What It Means

Since we’re into videos as of late, I’m posting this slightly-tweaked, short video, which disappeared when i deleted my old Google account recently. Those expecting the “inevitable” appearance of Zooey Deschanel will be sorely disappointed. I wrote this short poem (?) some time back as a tribute to old Johnny, habitue of this cafe I…

Tempest in My Coffee Cup

YOUR COFFEE MUG still sits where you left it; half-empty, atop your favorite porcelain, brim smudged with a curious combination of dried froth and pink lipstick. It’s my little testimony, you know, to a life well led and a union I thought was blessed. I never had the heart to move it even as it…

What it Means

My friends tell me i smile for all the wrong reasons. Most of the time, i really do for no reason at all. Maybe i was born with a stupid smirk on my face. But whenever i walk into this cafe and wander into her perfect world, this meaningless smile is a noun wanting to…

A First Attempt at Definitions

Marjorie Evasco’s breathtaking literary prose is herein featured in The Caffeine Chronicles. ———————– THE DOOR HAS never swung shut ever since we left it so, creaking on its hinges, slightly broken.  We kept it leaning out a little, as if we agreed its openness was an invitation we would take up when we felt braver…

A Prelude to Poetry

AND SO IT came to pass that on the eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month, he stuffed his travel case with everything he needed, reminding himself to travel light.  He carefully closed the door of his room; just enough to hear the latch click into place, and that was it, the…