Kerouac Rules For Spontaneous Prose #30

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Crossed the street for a cuppa Joe—watered down and strictly coffee in the academic sense because, around here, they seem to think everyone takes it with milk and sugar and will not taste the difference— They will knock it back, finish their sausage roll and flick up their blue collar—“oooh but coffee isn’t tea, is it, duck?”—and light a cigarette.

I smile–chew my gum— muse on mushrooms at breakfast with tinned tomatoes and fried egg vs. long-ago-IHOP days and memory of boysenberry syrup– I see you jogging to the car park– flowers in hand–fumbling for your keys–parking stub between your lips—I check my phone for the time of day and wonder, is it her birthday or your anniversary?

I thought to call your name—thought to catch you up—thought to smile–thought I might forgive you today—if only you would wander into Casey’s for a cup of brew. But I smiled and turned away.

Walking into Casey’s—I ordered a bagel sandwich to go—and my cup of Joe.

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About A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

Ann Wallace holds a degree from the University of Texas at El Paso in Mass Communications and minored in Creative Writing. She worked at the NBC Affiliate Newschannel9 in El Paso, was a journalist for the El Paso Diocese Catholic Newspaper, held writing workshops with The Tumblewords Project, performed as a Slam Poet and published poetry in small literary magazines. She is now an ex-pat in the UK where she lives, knits, games, works and writes. View all posts by A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

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