Old Habits

at the coffee shop

Had he been Clark Gable smooth

or Charlie Chaplin comical, i ».

it might not have been so bad— : res t >, at least that way it would have seemed q \ a movie-the leads, the customers as extras, é a the background music, lights, and all. ‘ A

But since his flannel shirt > was brain-dead grey, ea and the bristled flesh of his face the colour of cold sink water

on its way down the drain,

even a documentary was incredible.

And she? She was busy as all heck,

_ with coffee pots running on empty, and the drive-through backing up nine cars deep, and the new part-timer ladling soup slow as an iceberg melting at the pole.

She was just getting by to quitting time, then rushing home to get the dinner on, so I was glad she didn’t flinch but simply stared him down, curled a lip, blew out a little puff of air, then slapped his change upon the counter top.

And he? He slid the coffee from the glass and left a muddy smear, at like the smirk that spilt across his face

__ when he loudly cracked for us to overhear, “They don’t even say “no’ any more, when an old fella asks them for a kiss.”

Brent MacLaine