Memory Lane

     Last week I wrote about my WIP and how it's partially inspired by some events of my teenage years. So naturally after writing it I found myself traveling down memory lane. One of my favorite things to do back then was attend the Thursday night poetry readings at the Lighthouse Coffee Shop. It was this quaint little pink house that had been converted into a coffee shop/used clothing store. Even in my goth days, when the color pink was anathema, I loved that little pink building. Sadly, it is no longer pink, and no longer a coffee shop. 

     I dug up this poem I wrote a few years ago about a guy I had a crush on back then. Enjoy! 

No One Makes a Florentine Like You Do

Here I enter my weekly wonder,

the only constant in my world asunder.

My mind more a daze than the haze of the smoke-filled room

crowded with misfits sharing notebooks filled with gloom.

I wait behind the many followers at your bar,

but your eyes seek me from afar.

You know just what I like while I await to take the mike,

Your hand brushes against mine as you hand me my special florentine,

giving my heart a spike.

What to share? What to share?

I think, flipping through my tattered pages of exaggerated despair,

when your voice fills the air.

The room falls to a hush.

My heart pounds and my cheeks burn with a blush.

Your words are meant only for me

and my innocent mind fills with thoughts that were never to be.

You with your experience and never-ending band

of glaring green-eyed beauties. You look only at me,

not even old enough to buy the cigarettes clutched tightly in my hand.

Ahh, but it wasn't meant to be,

nothing but smiles and comments meant only for me,

And a florentine, served with extra chocolate, whipped cream, and a wink.

So here I sit half a lifetime later, my drink

now more bitter than sweet, and I think

wherever you are, this is for you.