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5/30/2006, 6:30 PM

trident's dark roast

sipping and watching all the fleeting pretty faces (painted-over morning grumpiness) who are missing the wonderful red rise of the wednesday morning sun over the harbour - but the girl at table ahead with pen to paper who stares intently at those whispy clouds, that bit of brightening sky above the brick, smiles to herself and her early coffee, and the sour faces painted pretty in sour suits grumble to their sour associates. i hope they are happier at home. i read Trungpa's pomes for breakfast.

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