One Evening at Rider’s Cup

Sitting in a coffee house

Listening to a friend sing.

The barista is kinda cute

And I’m wondering,

What the hell am I doing here?

I’m almost 50,

And the barista is probably

About my daughter’s age.

I don’t even drink coffee.

But here I am.

It’s not like I imagined.

Not the coffee house,

Nor being almost 50.

I expected a little more

I feared it’d be a little less.

Aren’t coffee shops mythic places?

Isn’t 50 one step away from death?

This shop is clean and kinda cool,

And 50 looks kinda do-able

At least at the moment.

So 50 and the coffee shop

Are what they are.

So I guess I can relax,

And drink my chai latte,

While I listen to the music.