The Poetry of Mark Daniel Milbocker 
Summer Cafe

Sitting at the edge of cobblestones
and the bustle of cigaretted feet
I imbibe my celestially swirling 
brew of blue mountain beans and
the maelstrom of cream captured in
its gentle gravity.

Streets redolent with the bantering of 
manicured trees and sidewalk buttercups
they argue with the perfumes of life
creating colorful clouds above the pigeons
and I perched at the edge of the arena
suckle my sugared bitters and order a pastry.
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