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by Le Ministre de l'au-delà

I'm sitting outside the cafe
while a fat old man on a bicycle
struggles up a “hill” I hadn't even noticed.

I see him reflected in the window
while through it I see the balletic barrista,
unaware that anyone can see her,
drop her bored pose and dance
to music only she can hear.

She pirouettes and leaps over one of the tables.
From where I sit, her image and his reflection seem to cross.

And as he clears the crown of the road,
he pedals faster, as if
inspired by a kiss
he never could have felt.