Sunday Evening Paper Boy by Liza Libes

All photos copyright to Wix/Unsplash. Photo from Christian Agbede.

Sunday Evening Paper Boy

Red stripes and 

Meditations on a branch of lavender 

Trapped under a plastic lid 

Lattes that we could not locate 

In the cafe of a bookstore

Trapped in Sunday evening whispers 

Circumscribing melodies 

Of an erratic dream

Nowadays the aristocracy appropriates

The newsboy hat 

And I admire golden buttons  

Jutting from your blazer

Stripped out of a private school

I dispel this smoky reverie that

Drowns out tomes of fresh 

Encyclopedias and we are on the search 

For lavender mint lattes

On the tenth floor of an ersatz bookstore 

Resembling the Barnes and Noble in 

Manhattan

You were wedged between a luncheon 

And a family reunion 

Celebrating Easter colors

Overtaking North Pole blue 

Running promptly

Though it was already time

My lacy dress appearing

Only in a dream for you 

Synchronized in colors 

And in appetites for old cartoons 

Resembling a locomotive fire

Burning energy into the vestiges of fumes 

I was on your arm and I could not 

Remember whether we’d acquired tea  

But you had to leave before 

I could tell you 

How I was

Liza Libes founded her literary project, Pens and Poison, in New York City. Her writing has appeared in Gone Lawn, Willows Wept Review, Jewish Women of Words and elsewhere. Liza is also an entrepreneur and a classical music enthusiast.