Lost My Everything Bagel but Gained a Caffeinated Melody
Lyrics from a broken spirit
The latte massacre
Like a world-renowned sprinter, I ran to the crosswalk where the pedestrian traffic sign was blinking at its final count down. I made a break to cross hoping to beat the sea of cars ready to skid the intersection. I held the cup of remaining latte and everything bagel tightly in my right hand unaware during my frantic run it had merged together like bread in a bowl of soup. I kept running until I made it to the building of my life-changing meeting. Without delay, I headed towards the front desk to get a visitors badge for the 11th floor but was met by 3 people waiting ahead of me. I checked the time on my phone and was now 10 minutes late for my debut. My heart pounded with more force than a bongo drum. I felt sick but I was not giving up.
“How could I let time slip right through my fingers?”, I thought.
I was now one person away from being seen but my impatience grew as a light sweat broke out on top of the sweat from my earlier sprint. I prayed to the universe that my tardiness did not affect my proven creativity. “Damn it!”, the words came out in a forceful whisper that the gentlemen ahead of me slightly glanced in my direction.
The receptionist called the man to the desk while I waited eagerly to be seen next. It was now 17 minutes past my appointment time. The heaviness in my chest and nausea in my stomach was a vicious combination. It mimicked the effects of eating bad sushi accompanied by mild vertigo. “Sir, may I help you?” The receptionist was finally ready to greet me. When I approached the desk she had a peculiar look on her face indicating there was something off. Her glance focused on one portion of my body. I peered down and found not only did the remainder of my Latte soak the bag with the bagel but me as well. It was a work of caffeinated art! “FUCK!!”
2 Weeks Later
As I ran the neighborhood streets getting my morning routine in, the memory of that day played out like a rerun of M.A.S.H.! You know, that 70's military show that had the depressing intro music and episodes that left you scrambling to change the channel. Well, at least that was the case for me. I wanted so desperately to change the channel in my head but the vicious loop of the double brew hitter and sprint to nowhere would not stop.
“If only I paid attention to the clock!”
“I should have gone to the coffee shop closer to my appointment!”
“Why did I let beauty once again be my downfall?”
“Shit, she probably thinks I’m an asshole!”
The questions always swarm in when I find myself thinking about that day. The more I thought about it, the harder I ran. Running in the cold helps keep my anger and frustration to a minimum, whatever that means. Unfortunately, the rumination caused me to take it out on my body.
I found myself running up the stairs to my apartment building, then two flights to the chipped black door of my abode. I went in and headed straight for the bathroom, turned the glass knobs over my outdated tub, and adjusted the water for a shower.
After tossing my sweaty running gear in the laundry basket, I stepped into the tub and let the heated water from the old shower head run over me. The steam rapidly build as I got lost in my thoughts once again. I released a deep sigh and leaned on the two-toned tile wall letting the water continue to douse me until I finally decided to utilize soap and get on with my day. I stepped out and wrapped a deep blue towel around my waist then headed for the kitchen where a freshly brewed pot of coffee had just finished. I went to the sink which is stationed right under a window, grabbed a mug from the drain rack, then poured a rich cup.
The sun was in full shine around this time of the morning. It always gave a beautiful lit stream casting from the window over the drain rack and onto the small wooden island in the kitchen. I leaned on the counter in front of the island, sipped my coffee, and began staring at the beam that formed a slight rainbow ring on the corner of its light oak surface.
The sunlight reminded me of her and how enchanting she was beneath its rays. I found myself smiling after thinking about her aromatic brown eyes sipping from that red mug. I smiled even harder when images of her smiling back at me appeared even though, for a moment upon our meeting, her initial attitude screamed: “go away”.
“Scammer?”, I chuckled shaking my head as the memory of her words began to trickle in.
I set my coffee in the rays of the sun and made my way to my guitar which was taking a nap on the sofa. I grabbed a few music sheets and a pencil then sat my towel-wrapped self on the stool next to the wooden island. Checking that my stringed partner was in tune to my liking, I tampered with a few chords. Within moments I was wrapped in the healing powers of the strings and my musical ears led the charge. Each strum added another note to the sheet which added another line and another melody. Each word that was expelled from my vocals formed the magic that created a newly written song and that song's essence was illuminated by thoughts of aromatic eyes, a sunlit smile, and the color red.
To be continued…