Alphabet coffeehouse, a poem

Alphabet coffeehouse
by mike marcellino


Alphabet Coffeehouse,
“Where can it be?”
Wandering streets,
A to Z
the East Side,
New York City
aimlessly,
late afternoon, after a show.
Red, white and blue
chipped, cracked lettered
no name circle concrete park,
bed of violet flowers
in the middle,
back lit
crimson eyed Susan’s
no name circle concrete park.

Alphabet Coffeehouse,
“Where can it be?”
sundown of existence,
A to Z
the East Side,
New York City,
10th and C.
Only a clue,
whisper,
unknown friend, fellow traveler
searchin’ for the
Alphabet Coffeehouse
9th and C,
‘round the corner from Banjo Jim’s.

“It’s nothing,” the young man replied,
aimlessly.
“Everything is nothing here,” he said again,
“nothing” about
Alphabet Coffeehouse
“Where can it be?”
A to Z,
red, white and blue
no name circle concrete park,
flag pole,
no colors up.

“Everything is nothing here,”
echoed across
the East Side,
New York City’s
middle a projects
brick, white window sills
houses of thirteen stories.

Jump rope,
rapping voices,
rollerblades,
bikes
black and brown
German Sheppard
walkin'
over a freeway
crooked overpass -
bottom of 10th,
East River Park.
Softball diamonds,
a dog like Sally with her master,
cars speeding, either way.

Banjo Jim’s open.
“Listen,”
the LA country girl sings,
Rebecca Turner,
no cover.


Alphabet Coffeehouse, copyright by mike marcellino 2009