Clement

So unaware that people are around
She shouts banality into the phone
A laptop and a cigarette in hand
She has her skinny decaf with no foam
My tolerance is really wearing thin
Why does she take her break at this café
The cigarette now stubbed into the ground
So loud and yet it seems not much to say
Was Clement cafe named to make me pause
The multi tasking woman’s life unknown
Perhaps I could be kinder in my thoughts
Is this the only time she calls her own?
Reminder to myself that if I can
In thought and deed to be a clement man

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Author: thepoetautist

A Gay poet of fifty odd years who is currently living in Cambodia.

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