Marrakesh Mint Green Tea

Server: Purnima
September 14, 2008
Done: 3:32 pm

One walks into Zucca and they are in Paris
Which is strange when one can see Mountain View beyond
The music curls around your body like a cat
Sleek and black and furry
When one dines here they dine a le monde

The mint and the pepper both burn as they soothe
The echoes of the kitchen provide percussion and clatter
The pluck of guitar and the clarinet smooth
Improvisationally accompanies the brunch on the platter

I sit here in bliss as I eat the sweet citrus
The waitstaff converse about both life and work
The siren in French sings with soft voice like a mistress
I’m a voyeur upon a grander life in which I merely lurk

The lovely Slavic princess calls me then
And I step back into the street
We talk about homecomings and make plans for when
We’ll have some time for leisure to once again meet

She’s been around the world while I’ve been just milling here
Sitting in Mountain View in the heart of the Valley
My mind whirling on the American Dream so dear
As I speak on the phone looking at trash cans in the alley

Then with gentle and laughing “Ciaos!” we part in mind
Her to her recuperation and me to my scrambled eggs
I return inside, my virtual Paris to find
“What is real, what simulation?” my confused heart begs.

They chat about true troubled psyches
As I sip my Marrakesh Mint Green Tea
About men and power like feminine Nikes
Victorious women fully independent and free

I hold in my fingers the tag of Mighty Leaf
The Green Knight alone at Zucca’s stone bar
And I reflect how the atmosphere in my heart steeps
Saturating my being like being bathed in a star

Light and pure, truly restoring my soul
Feeding more than belly already sated
Leaving me a bit closer to a sense of being whole
Pondering now what future is fated

The cars and the trees and pedestrians now
Reflect on to me the call of Outside
Yet the quietest conversations of waitresses somehow
Holds me fast to the place like a gravitational tide

Drifting in time as exotic music arabesques
Swirling around my ears as brunch disappears
Celebrating the world free of work tied to desks
Relaxing as women’s chatter flows past my ears

The time for all words is now nearing end
They are insufficient to capture the moment
The taste of the eggs and the beat of the drum send
Harmonic perfection beyond further comment

Copyright © 2008 Peter Corless