The daily ritual begins
She enters Starbucks
Clad in sneakers, jeans, denim jacket
Garb of a twenty year old
On a 40 something body
Her eyes rove hungrily,
Spotting her quarry
She pounces upon
The Daily News
The New York Times
Settling down in her comfy chair
Iced Mocha Frappacino at the ready
Sipping and reading, reading and sipping
Every word on every page
No matter how mundane, how horrific
How inspiring, how boring
All are ravenously devoured
After she has eaten her fill
She stows the carcasses under her cushions
Guarding them, for later gnawing
Then takes out paper and pen
And begins scribbling and scrawling
Periodically looking around for inspiration
Or perhaps struck by revelation
Suddenly, our eyes meet
Has she noticed me
As I've noticed her, day after day?
Am I on her pages
As she is on mine?
Does she know I lie in wait
For her to vacate her seat
And that I too shall pick the newspaper bones clean?
