My simple joy
a cup of coffee
and people walking by
my heart calls for decaf
the Portuguese make the best
I enjoy it on the sidewalk
in front of Café Bom Dia
Café Good Morning
the air is fresh
nothing wrong with that
mothers drag their children past
the homeless stagger by
children chat exiting news
men with frowns carved in
dirty hands
hug each other when they meet
the other day
early morning
the smell of chlorine
pure bliss to my senses
memories of the south
where cafés open early
before the heat
sun
mornings
when the patron himself
celebrates the last breeze of cool
by pouring a bucket of water onto the sidewalk
with verve
and pride
cigarette between his lips
me
traveller of night
arrived
to taste decaf
not the real thing
but
my kind of bliss
(Jürgen Schöneich, 16.6.20229