Home Poetry Glass Island

Glass Island

by Stephanie Alfaia


With thirty minutes to spare
I walked over an avenue to Lucy’s Cantina
Straight through the sign that read
We have a heated rooftop.
A table for two waiting in the middle of the deck
“That table, for one please.”
I never removed my sound canceling headphones
Down Under drowning the waitress’s response
But her smile meant she was in accordance.
I ordered a shirt steak burrito and a Shock Top,
I hate flavored beers but it was a nice Spring day
And looking at an orange garnish would make me smile.
I told her I was in a rush, smiled and handed her my credit card.
She returned with my beer and card in hand,
The burrito right behind her.
I like people who listen.
And I sat still with my black pen, journal, burrito and cold beer
I could hear the faint sound of Lucy’s own music playing
But I was in my own trance
Could You Be Loved blasting in my ears
As a few confused, glanced my way.
Surely they wondered why I preferred the
Solitude of my own music
I couldn’t help but imagine myself
Sitting inside a glass cube
An eclectic island in a sea of sameness

© Magnified Reflections 2013
all rights reserved

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