flawed souls

ten

her

we walk into a small cafe,
with a cursive title: chérie
west seems to be known here,
everyone greets him warmly

"c'est qui?" says a waitress with
a very shaved head, red lips
and eyes filled with mystery
he leans in and kisses her cheek amicably,
"lotus, c'est mon amie. rose, lotus. lotus, rose."

i know just enough french to reply
"salut!" it comes out as a squeak
west leads me to a table,
as i am trying my best not to freak the hell out

"where are we?"
west's eyes twinkle: "this is chérie. i found it
while walking aimlessly. it's a french cafe, i sing here every friday."

him

she sips on her hot chocolate,
fumbling clumsily to fix a chaotic hair strand
that kept falling to her face
i savor the warmth of the café au lait (coffee with milk)
in my hands and feel the familiar settlement of contentment

I get whenever i am here
"ladies and gentlemen, west tylers!" announces rose,
handing me the microphone
the coffee house's guitar is in my hands

as i get on stage and sit on a stool
lotus is smiling, she reminds me of a kid
on the night before christmas,
barely restraining the joy and excitement
from their face.

"this is a song called hopeless time. i'd like to invite
the lady slash kid in pajamas to come sing with me."

lotus goes from happy to nervous in moments
rose takes her hand and leads her beside me,

"west!!! no! please! i don't sing in front of people."
"relax. c'mon, lotus. loosen up, babe."

her eyes are having a stare down with mine
i mentally scoff, as if she'll win.

finally she blinks and sighs,
"just play, south-east. i hate you."

"oui, mademoiselle."