Gene waits for Jenny
at the Heretics Cafe
checks the wall clock
with the Che Guevara beret
and beard smiley face again.
looks at his phone.
stares out the window.
A squad of cheerleaders
sporting pink surgical masks
rides past on bamboo frame
electric bicycles.
Jenny arrives, a little breathless
and pink cheeked, shedding
her quilted Mao jacket
as she weaves between
the tables full of laptop junkies.
-Sorry. The bus hit a coyote
and everybody got out.
they wouldn't let the driver go
until this lady tried to move it
off the street. the poor thing
tried to bite her.
-wow. so what happened?
-I think maybe it was just stunned
because she put it on the sidewalk
and tried to cover it with her
hello kitty sweater and then it
just got up and ran off into the park.
-weird.
-yeah. so. how are you?
-ok. just the……
-same old same old….
-uh huh. how 'bout you?
-I'm cool. basically.
-basically?
- yeah. the usual drama at work. Jerry's all worked up
about this proposal, driving everybody crazy.
-right. so what else is new?
-not much. coyotes.
-yeah. you hungry? wanna order something?
-sure. what do they got here?
-ummm. pigeon tacos. kelp noodles.
-seriously? what about a bagel?
-yeah. gluten free.
-oh. maybe just a latte. i don't suppose that comes
with something other than like, yak milk……
-bison.
-naturally. ok.
Jenny threads her way to the counter.
The guy taking orders says
-what can I get you?
- I'd like a small latte.
-ok. anything else?
Jenny peers into the glass case
some kind of black hairy muffinish things
wilted thistles, a plate of what could be
either roasted marshmallows or mushrooms
-No, just the latte, please.
-I'll bring it to your table. where you sitting?
-over there with the guy with the Leon Trotsky trucker hat
-cool. you a friend of Gene's?
-yeah.
-too bad about Katherine.
- what do you mean?
- oh. I thought you knew, she…….well I think you
better ask him, I don't want to tell tales out of school.
-yeah. You wouldn't want to do that. thanks. I guess...
She walks back to the table
where Gene is sitting.
no one looks up from their screens.
on the wall behind Gene
is a large painting in the style of Thomas Kincaid:
a thatch-roofed English cottage
with a garden, where a mohawked Vladimir Lenin
is dancing a jig and Marilyn Monroe
is handing a rose to Saddam Hussein.
Groucho Marx stands in the doorway taking a selfie.
-Interesting place, Gene. it fits you.
-you think so? I guess it does, now that you mention it.
-how's work? last time I saw you you were about
to take off to Wichita for some installation.
-yeah, that was pretty cool, not at all what I expected.
-like what?
-well you know, Kansas! i thought it would be all Dorothy and Toto.
-and?
- My client was Cesna, you know, the airplane company?
-right.
-well there were the usual engineer geeks, and they were
actually pretty cool, into music and art and stuff,
we could hang out, have a conversation that didn't revolve around sports.
not everyone of course, there were some more rednecky types too.
-cool.
-yeah.
-so did you get to go up in any planes?
-yes, as a matter of fact. one of the senior engineers
arranged for me to ride along on test flights a few times.
-what did they think about your gray water reclamation system?
-oh at first they thought it was funny, you know,
they were like, barnacles? you use barnacles? do they have names?
they teased me a bit, called me Barnacle Bill or Barny? I told them
they weren't even barnacles, they're mussels...but it was all in good fun.
they weren't even barnacles, they're mussels...but it was all in good fun.
- nice. so Gene, what do think about going someplace else
to grab a bite? this place is way cool, but what about something
a little less exotic?
-sure. what are you in the mood for? taqueria? soup and salad? chinese?
-any one of those would be fine. then you can tell me about katherine. Is that ok?
-Sure, there's not much to tell. But lets walk down the street, see what tickles your tummy.
They put on their coats and leave. no one looks up from their screen.
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