In the Middle

A café and a coffee, a grace moment to think,

to mull,

to pray and toe-tap to piped in jazz,

to stare at an old black and white classic on the muted set, and

it’s a sandwich, sandwiched in between the club and conversation with the girls–this moment of aloneness,

punctuated with caffeine,

cares percolating to the surface.

I am in the middle–one foot here and one foot hereafter, feeling adrift,

longing for what will be, but pegged to the obligations of dirt, H2O, and troposphere

and such,

wanting to stay and wanting to leave, purposed to stay, sometimes tentatively certain of my ever-after hope.

I am standing in the middle–one heart here, one heart hereafter, joy and pain co-mingled in all these between moments.