You:

Queue up and wait your turn, Chat to others while waiting. Upon your turn, place order. 'Cappuccino to drink in please mate'. 'Small, regular or large sir?'. 'Regular please'. 'Chocolate sprinkles?', 'yes please'. 'Anything to eat?'. 'Hmm, actually yeah, I'll have a chocolate brownie too'. 'Here you go. £4.40 please sir'. Find any chair and sit down. Enjoy your coffee, chat munch your brownie. Relax.

Me:

I can see the counter. It seems so far away. I need to go past at least 5 tables of humans to get there. That's after I've negotiated the others just browsing the store. It's noisy. The voices pound like machine gun fire inside my mind. It surrounds me, becomes fussy and dramatic. TING!!! A spoon hits a cup, to my left I think. DING DING, DING DING!! DING DING DING DING, MMMMMMMMM. Crockery going into a dishwasher, location unknown. CHATTER, CHATTER, CHATTER, not words, just sounds, it's in every direction, closing in. CHATTER, CHATTER, BEEP, TING, DING DING, CHATTER, RING RING, LAUGH, BOOM, GUFFAW, CRASH. BOOM FUCKING BOOM, BUZZING BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ!!!

I can do this.

I breathe in, visualise my path and plan my route. I can do it, I'll pretend to be using my phone, it'll help me pass the tables. Seating location sensed, far right corner, table on its own, back to wall facing into room. Perfect.

FUCK NO WAIT!!! where's the escape? Where?...WHERE??? It's ok, there it is. Past table 2 and there's an out to the right, takes me back past the books and to the exit. There's another past table 5. Tables 1,3 and 4 will require quicker steps. Noise still present, but merged into process.

I can do this.

I take my first steps towards the counter. Head down, phone up. Avoid eye contact. Far peripheral vision keeps me safe. Follow the route. Instantly the counter moves further away, like it's retreating. It's in your head, keep moving forward, keep moving forward.

Past table 1. So far so good. Head on to table 2, escape route in peripheral. Starts well, onwards. FUCK NO WAIT!! Lady on table, pathway side, moving chair backwards. She'll block route, she'll push societal politeness onto me. Breathe in, Breathe the fuck in. Crisis averted, she was just making herself comfortable.

Table 3, quicken steps and past.

Table 4. No, no and fuck no..he's getting up, he's getting the FUCK up. Slow pace, judge it, brake, slow. Perfect. He's in front, I can follow. NO...NO....he's dawdling, slowing, turning, FUCK....wallet on table. He turns quick, 'Oh sorry, I didn't see you there, I am clumsy'...NOD....SMILE (always remember the smile)....he needs to get back to the table, the gap is tight, he's passing by me sideways, body close and face to face, touching almost, SMILE AND MOVE, SMILE AND FUCKING MOVE. Past him.

Table 5. Escape route eyed. Past with no concern.

Counter. There's a queue. Five people. I can wait, it's fine. No pressure here and allows me time to plan my transaction. I'm calm. I can....NO WAIT!!!! Table 4, fuck, table 4 is behind me, wallet in hand....'I'd forget my head if it wasn't screwed on'...smile, remember to smile, always remember to smile. Nod.

Phone. Use phone as a barrier. Tap, scroll, swipe. Anything.

Head in phone, far peripheral still in use, maintaining contact with all routes, with seating potential. With escape.

Queue diminished, just one more before me. Several now behind table 4. I can feel them on me, their physical presence is weighing me down. Pressure, growing pressure.

The one before me is placing a big order. Constantly adding, constantly changing. Plan it, fucking plan your transaction. They are done. I step forward, I'm prepared....NO WAIT, she's turned back, there's still more, I leap back nearly crunching number 4, 'oh haha, that's one all mate'. NOD, SMILE, SMILE, NOD, PHONE, HANDS, FUCK!!!

My turn, I'm centre stage to an audience of one attendant and a 12 deep queue, 26 eyes watching my monologue, willing my end.

'Cappuccino please'. Confident delivery, assured and to the point.

'No problem, small, regular or large sir?', fuck a question.

'Er.....er....', the eyes burning on me more, pressure, pressure, 'medium, er regular please, thank you'.

'That's great, would you like chocolate sprinkles?'. Another question, I don't hear it, I'm switched off by being switched on to all around me, 'I....er......what?'

'Chocolate sprinkles? On top of the Cappuccino?'

'Yep, yes please, thanks'. Voice weakened, trembly almost.

'Oh I love choc....'....SHUT THE FUCK UP TABLE 4!! I ignore his engagement, my focus remains on the attendant. I instantly worry I've offended with my rudeness, 'sorry?' I hear myself say. 'Oh I was just saying I love chocolate sprinkles on mine. Can't have them now though, have to keep the sweet stuff to a minimum'.

I've switched off, I'm listening but not hearing, DING DING, CLATTER, BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ FUCKING BUZZING.

'Any food sir?' Questions, questions stabbing at me.

'What? Did you? What? Sorry?'

'Any food sir?

'NO,' I utter, 'thank you' I add.

'To drink in?'

Queue now 20, 40 eyes, 'Er yes, please'

Peripheral distracted, far right corner table taken. STOP!!! Say 'to take out', say it, SAY IT!!!!

Too late, cup half full.

'£2.40 please sir'

Reach for wallet, hands shaking unable to unbutton clip and unzip zipper, fumbling, hands full of holes, starting attacking at coins as if a bird pecking food. Give up, 'do you take card?

'Yes sir, we have to charge a pound though'

'Fine, yes fine'. Hand card awkwardly.

'Cash back sir?' NO MORE QUESTIONS, NO MORE FUCKING QUESTIONS.

'No..............thank you'

Transaction complete.

RAT A TATA, RAT A TATA, machine gun as coffee mug rattles on saucer in hand, location seeking new pathway to plot, fear of spillage growing.

TABLE 2, she's leaving. Don't think just act, head there with speed.

RAT A TATA, RAT A TATA, RAT A TATA. All eyes watching, judging, preying. Noises, noises everywhere.

Sat down. Table still has used crockery on it. Bad position, people passing behind to reach queue, tables either side, feel hemmed in and worse, back to escape route.

Hands shaking, head sweating, FUCK!!! I forgot to get sugar. It's at the counter.

DRINK, JUST DRINK. Phone out, looking at nothing but just tap, scroll, swipe, eye contact avoidance. I'm ok. I'm safe. With head down I'm closed off to the humans. Drink and go.

'Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here? There's no other free seats' SAY NO! For you own sweet sake, say NO!!!!

'Er.....yes, yes of course'. ARGHHHH.

Fiddle with phone again, slowly get up, smile nod, nod smile avoid eye contact and leave. Coffee still steaming.

Following day:

Coffee at home......burnt my hand on the kettle.

I couldn't be truthful in saying whether he'd sat down before me, or me before him, my mind deep in battle with the moral compass of that days newspaper.

It feels right to say that he had been there all along. A silent presence, invisible until contact.

It was the breathing I noticed first. A slow nasally intake, followed by a wheezing crackling output. Each direction seemingly causing difficulties, seemingly taking great effort. Without visual confirmation, I decided that my companion on the bench was old. Very old.

'Ahh the song of the Thrush'. The voice caught me by surprise. I looked at him for the first time. He was old, extremely old. He sat with a weight that only old age can bring. 'I...I'm sorry?' I uttered. He turned his head towards me, a slow motion that felt straight from a movie. 'Oh....sorry....I was just referring to the birdsong.' he said. I smiled and nodded until he added, 'it was her favourite'.

He used the word 'was', a widower then. His age being another indicator to this assumption.

'We'd often sit and listen to the birds. Our own personal orchestra. We'd close our eyes and let their notes paint colours for us'.

He was reminiscing. Using me as the sounding board. Memories of a life shared. I was happy to listen.

Her name was Annie. A warmth engulfing his face whenever he mentioned the name. 'My Annie'.

He spoke as if a teenager, still caught in the throes of love, still enjoying the excitement of a new relationship. Yet his knowledge of her, the understanding, his sheer level of connection evidenced experience that only a long term love can offer. They shared everything, inner thoughts and feelings, true emotions.

'We were truly together, Annie and I. We were one. The first time we kissed, it felt as if we'd been in love forever. That can happen you know, a couple meets and they feel as if they've done it all before, instantly know each other deeply'.

I asked the obvious question, 'how old were you when you met?'

'She was 85, I was 87', his smile became wider and his eyes told me he knew what I was thinking.

'We met in the care home'.

They'd been together for six months before Annie passed. He referred to her as the love of his life, his dream. The girl he'd waited for all his years, yet didn't know he was searching. I asked when she passed away.

'Two days ago.' As the hammer of his words struck me, I saw that his smile was still as wide and his eyes still bright and joyful. Again he read my thoughts.

'Oh of course I'm upset, and I miss her terribly but it's not the end.

Now son, you listen to an old man. When it truly comes you'll know. Every part of your being will tell you so. And when that moment comes, you take it. Whatever the situation, you take it and finally you have found your home. Finally you are complete. You are together and you are one.

Real love can't be measured by periods of time, it isn't material things or what society expects it to be. Real love is everything you want it to be.'

Then he smiled. A warm and happy smile. A smile of content and satisfaction.

'You see, when you find that love, you know it will last forever. Will exist outside the boundaries we confine ourselves within. Mine and Annie's journey has only just started, her final words to me were 'until our days''.

He said no more. His words danced on the wind as his breathe and heart eventually stopped.

She saved me.

No, not my life, for I wouldn't have died

But she saved my soul from the depths of its madness

And she emerged from the feat with not a scratch

She saved me.

She held me.

No, not my body, for I wasn't bleeding

But she held me above everything in her eyes

And it was the first time I had been something of value

She held me.

She kissed me.

No, not my lips, though she does that too

But she kissed the parts of me that I was afraid of

And she kissed them with enough adoration to make them start to mend

She kissed me.

She left me.

No, not alone, for I will always feel her warmth when the frost tries to creep

But she left me bare and undone and aching for purity

And she filled me with the promise of salvation and I was whole again

She saved me.

Can I tell you about her?

Someone needs to remember her. My memories are dying quicker than I.

Can I tell you about her?

Please.

Before they are gone.

She wasn’t supposed to be first. She was to care for me.

I loved her the first-time I saw her

Her hair was the color of the sun

Her eyes as blue as the sea

Her laughter was a melody composed by angels

Her skin was the silk of gods

Her face...

I can’t remember her face

I don’t want to cry tonight

But if I cry tomorrow

I won’t know why

Can I tell you about her?

She would take my hand when the pains began

She would lean close

Whispering fantasies

I would taste her lips

As she kissed away the sorrows

She would tell me about…

I can’t remember

Who is that there?

See, the picture on my nightstand.

Do you know her?

Will you tell me about her?

Her hair is like the eye of heaven

Her smile is so sad

She is beautiful

Please

Tell me about her

finally. 

we're doing it, 

we're really going places. 

I heard that you bought a plane ticket, 

so I bought a radio. 

I might take a bath with it. 

We’ve grown older. We are now bindweed

tamed onto garden trellises

Back when it was always morning

we spread without ever touching anything

We unraveled our palms to take hold of the day

and made dense thickets of wastelands

Now we shield our faces from the light

Tragic this, how the dew stays on windows now

unmarked by sleeves to look out into morning

We’ve grown older

The unborn call to us from somewhere

close and faraway,

on the other side of walls

their voices sound like water

They are jays scolding from unseen branches

They will glower when they see us

wag their chubby fingers in disapproval

and write on chalk boards with rusty nails

And they will say:

the lost one became blind through herself

the clouds got trapped in her eyes

we were the sky on the other side

that she could not see

When you're with me

I could continue on existing

For an eternity;

Forever hypnotized by your whisperings

And loud thoughts.

You rattle every bone in my body

And remind me why I'm still breathing.

I am the one who stacks on bleached logs

cairns of smooth pebbles

and leave, in my wake,

fleeting spirals in the sand

Footprints glimpsed for a moment

before the tide comes in

With a stick

I write

monotony

in the sand

and below that

ten other words

That mean the same

I watch the girl

long tan doe legs folded 

hands burrowing the sand

And trace the contours of her shoulder blades,

the flecks of freckles across her back,

and shade each hollow

the vertical range of vertebrae

revealed in sharp definition beneath her top

And later that night on canvas

her last look,

smeared and abstract

Beautiful girl

I hold your heart

(in a jar

on my desk)

the

wind

slackens

the peeling pelt

of eucalyptus and

hurls pieces

of its flesh into the

swirling eddy

that envelopes the forest

remnants

a copse of corpses

sluggish the sun rises

over the cremation

and casts a red

eclipse from which the forest

shrinks away

repelled by the

recall of heat and loss

ashes

all is

ashes

trees unfold back to the earth