Cafe on a Rainy Day
fresh warm bread, communal table chatter.
Bitter taste and hot on tongue, scattered salt,
sugar, cream, café whites. Rainy day, prime
time for coffee, poems, community,
hospitality haven. Warm heart home.
Disco muzak, transported back in time.
If my ancestors had stayed here, would I
have yearned to leave? Graveyard outside the door.
Is dying in place the worst place to die?