I'm sitting at a cafe.
Located in the great ol' Altadena Mountains.
Coffee and Milk; cafe au lait.
A lady reads Joan Didion across my periphery, it is a book I know I have on my bookshelf.
I feel guilty for not reading Joan Didion yet.
At least I have Steinbeck.
On top of a white saucer, in a satisfying blue and white mug I love so dearly sits my own cafe au lait.
An extra shot of espresso.
It's hot and strong.
Better than warm and milky.
I believe there is nothing worse than a lukewarm milky cup of coffee.
A layer of marine sits above me
I have a dance morphing,
stacking,
tangling
in my head.
The song is "The Shining" my vision is a lady with her cup of coffee.
....
mmm
Stormy Weather.
Don't know don't know don't know
where or where?
WONDERING if i'll ever be able to relate to Etta James.
I sip
I think
I feel
I am beginning to ingest the equilibrium.
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