My Comfort, My Pen

A quiet corner in a coffee shop,

A notebook and a pen,

I’ve already placed my order,

Now, to settle into my version of zen.

I sit by the window,

So my sunglassses aren’t suspect,

They’re my own ‘do not disturb’ sign,

Hopefully one, others will respect.

My earbuds fit comfortably,

Helping my look of ‘do not approach’

But there’s a ‘Karen’ staring and whispering,

Wearing an obnoxious brooch.

Little does she know,

How vital a role she just played,

Feeding inspiration to my pen,

And what my characters would say.

You see, my writing is my comfort,

A short-story, a movie, or play,

People-watching is endless material,

And ol’ Karen is now fair game.

Her ignorant remarks that reinforce her baseless fear,

Are then suddenly interrupted,

When her name, she hears.

She approaches the counter and rudely says,

“It’s about time! What took so long?”

She then sips her coffee and grimaces

The employee asks, “Ma’am, is something wrong?”

She begins to rant,

She begins to rave,

Feeling entitled as a customer,

Belittling others makes her feel brave.

I allow my pen to step in,

For the young, kind employee,

Replacing her with ‘Jack’,

An old marine, fired from the DMV.

He stood there, staring at her,

His apathy almost palpable,

His lack of reaction made Karen look foolish,

And the whole spectacle quite laughable.

He waited patiently,

Until she quickly ran out of breath,

Then he verballly ripped her a new one,

Thoroughly enjoying her turning shades of red.

Though snapping back to reality,

This was sadly not so,

The manager remade her coffee,

Respectfully asking her to go.

She walked out, looking back,

Then left everyone floored,

By the spectacle she caused,

When walking into a giant sandwich board.

The commotion was loud,

The coffee was a casualty

My pen took over once more,

There was Jack, mopping around Karen, casually.

“Watch your step, there, sunshine…”

Jack quipped with a wink,

“You wear that coffee well,

But it’s more satisfying as a drink…”

As I said early on,

I’ll say it again,

My comfort, my zen,

Flows freely from my mind,

And out via my pen.