Morning Coffee at Station One, by David Haskins

April 15, 2016

There’s never much room for the truth

while those who believe they know

all the answers suppress the questions

-  Chris Pannell, “We went out naked”



Two young women talk at a table

An infant wanders away from his mother

sucks the flip lid of a plastic squeeze tube

The coffee house is a reclaimed fire station

the pacifier a repurposed lotion tube

Nothing may be taken at face value


The toddler watches me choose my chair

careful not to spill my cup

His eyes are wide, his perfect face upturned

curious to mind what else is there

besides his mother his stroller and her purse

I cannot but smile


He notices, takes his only toy from his lips

reaches out and offers it to me

asking me to join with him

share his tabula rasa wonder

a one-year-old and a seventy-one-year-old

self and other, alpha and omega

momentary travellers at the edge of the new world


His mother sees our subtle bond

and rises to retrieve her young –

he has stepped where he should not

where she did not lead him –

and who am I to take from her

the right to introduce him to a world

that will confound him in his time


Not knowing what waits beyond the moment

he bounces on her knee and frets



David Haskins is the author of This House is Condemned.


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