an old writer and his words

  • WHICH

    Tomorrow it will beFriday again, so we knowthe decision is looming, one wehave grown used to, one that weagonize over although in any schemeof things it is trivial at best.But here we are trying to decidewhich of two coffee shops weshould visit tomorrow morning,a bagel and cortado at either,one close, nice and pedestrianbut with the…

    Lou Faber

  • SEEING YOU AGAIN

    I saw you again yesterday, as I haveso often recently and once again thoughtof approaching you for there is muchI would like to know about you and howwe ended up in the same place.But once again I sensed that youwanted solitude, wanted notto be disturbed, not to be questioned.You did smile briefly, a momentarysoftening of…

    Lou Faber

  • LINGER

    Sitting in the mall strip plaza coffee shopworking my way slowly through a nonfat cortadoI stared at the everything bagel lyingforlornly on the saucer, its thin coatof peanut butter wishing, as I did, that itwas a spread of cream cheese, all of thisa portent of a difficult day to follow, as ifpunishment for a former…

    Lou Faber

  • OR

    I can safely say I don’t miss the dayswhen they wheeled you into the operating room,smiling you assumed behind the masks,as you shift from gurney to table, your open gownflapping about like some wind driven flag.You would lie there staring up at the massive lightsthankfully were turned on, blinding you, watchedas they placed the mask…

    Lou Faber

  • FROM HERE TO THERE

    It is a marvel of engineering,miniaturization taken to a new level.Once it was a pound of coffeewhere sixteen ounces became thirteenbut they knew we would growused to the new quantity afteronly a short period of complaining.That there weren’t other optionsall but guaranteed they would win.But now they’ve miniaturizedthe inside of airplanes, your seatnarrower, you knee…

    Lou Faber

  • SAVANNAH DREAMS

    Slide between the sheetsexhausted after a day of walkingthe streets of this old city.This is a city of squares, statuestoo many to fully recall, eachone’s history unknown to most,and with the slowly falling rainto remain unknown to us.Despite its age and great beautythis is a tourist city, one whererestaurants don’t take reservationsknowing their tables will…

    Lou Faber

  • SAVANNAH

    The morning clings to youlike a damp sheet, the foglifting slowly, a magnifierpulled away from the square,the live oaks edging into focus. You sit at the table, wipingthe crumbs from you reallydon’t want to know when,a steaming cortado waitingpatiently for the first bitesof the large scones onthe mismatched plates. In the background a cry,“vanilla soy…

    Lou Faber

  • MID MORNING SONG

    He leans against the walloutside the Prêt à Mangerwitting with his dogon the old Mexican blanketsthat look uniquely out of placeon a cool London morning.He sips the now fetid coffeein its Styrofoam cup,its Burger King logoand temperature warning.His hair is long, mostlygray with streaks of white,his beard whitewith swaths of blond, helooks as though hejust…

    Lou Faber

  • MAP STORE

    The bride walks down the aisletrailing a veil of tearsrolling in the dustof too many centuries,encrusting the virgin. Albert Einsteinpurchases a map of Taos. Bookkeeper hunchesover ledger sheetstallying night winds acrossthe frozen pond, logwedged in the ice. Douglas Macarthurpurchases a map of Hue. Monitors blare newsfrom other worlds, flickeringacross cups of half emptycoffee and cigarette…

    Lou Faber

  • ROBBIE

    He left and we never saw the departure coming. We knew he would leave sooner or later, but not now. We had planned on his visit. We knew he meant he was coming. We knew he might just show up. He traveled on snap decisions. It might be here, it might be Paris or Italy.…

    Lou Faber