I am the girl from the coffee shop

(The Bird and the Bulldog) —

Though when I say “girl” I actually mean “woman of diminutive stature”

And when I say “from the” I mean

one Friday morning I walked in for a coffee

And there you were, face toward the door

Staring intently at something on your laptop screen

And a little voice in the back of my imagination whispered

Oh, perfection —

I realize, of course, that you have no idea

Any of this ever occurred and that

This mere daydream is foolhardy at the very best

Still, if you are unattached and unafraid of imperfection

I am the girl in the coffee shop sitting sideways to the door

Messily eating toast and jam