Every day I watch you pass by my window. I sit there having my
coffee in the little shop near the corner. I can almost set my watch by
when you pass the streetlight. 7:25 AM on a good day, 7:30 if it is
raining or below zero out there.  The coffee is always strong here. Two
creams and two sugars and it's perfect. I think about asking you to join
for a cup sometimes as you come inside. You walk up to the counter and
order yourself a bagel and one cup, two creams and two sugars, just like
me. You see me sitting in my usual spot, taking my usual slow sips. You
nod your head sometimes, when I lift my gaze over my paper at just the
right moment to catch yours. Then you turn and walk out the door, back
onto the sidewalk to go to the offices close by. I'm sure you are one of
those who arrives twenty minutes early so you won't be late.  Sometimes
for a change of pace I have a donut instead of toast with my breakfast.
And I like to think you notice, that your gaze lingers on my plate,
knowing you can't disapprove because of your own fondness for chocolate
glazing. I wonder daily what you think, if I should ask you to join me for
a moment, or to walk you to your building so you won't miss your twenty
minutes of alone time at work.
        You work in one of those buildings; so do I. A million glass
panes, and you hide behind one of them. But Monday through Friday, for
five minutes, you walk into my life. For five minutes, and that is enough
to keep a poor dreamer alive.

Saturday, April 4, 1998 12:28 AM