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Coffee House Paranoia

There is a man in Starbucks holding
a dental floss stick in his mouth;
you know the kind - plastic Y shaped with a piece
of string tight at he end. It's possible he's crazy.
Crazy with dental floss.
He's sitting quietly with one arm
in his coat and the other arm out;
I think he's drinking a latte
. . . I'm not sure what type.
Men with dental floss and coats half off
surely must be a concern?
yet nobody else seems alarmed.
He's making notes in a book,
possibly plans,
he could be planning something
... menacing
I walk by to try and have a peek,
he covers his notes with his coated arm.

I'm thinking of calling the FBI
but I'm not sure that they'll realize
the inherent danger
associated with mint glossed string.

dental bomber.

You paint such a fun picture, Cate. Maybe it's not your dig, or maybe I'm in an exhausted, crabby mood (I blame it on the 13.1 yesterday, and the fact that the character in the book I'm reading and whom I'd come to admire has set things in motion to kill her sister, who deserves it, maybe, but still should not receive it, and I lose admiration for someone when they set their capacity for murder into action) but I find myself looking for a bigger purpose for a piece like this. For instance, if you gave the guy a long black beard or a funny hat and said you were calling Homeland Security, it could be a statement about how we've become ultraconscious of "threatening" Arabs in our society. (Though that idea is about 8 years outdated.)

Or maybe since these ideas have come to mind, that IS what you've done here, and I'm just a little slow (I blame it on the elimination of caffeine from my diet, which I broke today, and which hasn't kicked in yet, which I also blame on yesterday's 13.1) to realize. Not Arab, specifically, just fakey threats in general. Which would make it not at all outdated, so well done!

I love the sound of this line: Men with dental floss and coats half off

Hello You,

first 13 miles (21 k) Manna you totally rock, I know you've gone farther but to be out there on such a crap day and still do 21k ...

second - Why does the woman want to kill her own sister?

~~ I went on a bit - sorry to tired to be brief
“dental bomber” – I like that
We don't have homeland security ... at least not that I know of, mind you we don't have FBI either. I just liked the American sound of it and that seemed to fit the paranoid feeling a bit better then the Mounties.

I like that you were wondering if the guy might be Muslim. Did you hear about the airline pilot who refused to fly because there was an Imam on board ... sadly the Imam was trying to get to a conference about just that type of thing and was late as he had to take a different flight.

My goal was simply the silliness of the Narrators fear and that it was really N. who had the issue.
The poem doesn’t address this but people, like the floss guy, who are a bit different are often … alone. If people can’t pick up on why a person seems different/strange they feel uncomfortable and tend to act in an overly cautious manor. They're not cruel, they’ll ask their kids not to talk to the person – they’ll avoid chit chat in lines – they won’t sit with them on the bus ... little things that make us feel connected. I think life can be lonely for people who others perceive as being ‘not quite right’.

In my case, I felt concerned about a man with dental floss who had rather abrupt movements. I avoided eye contact when he sat close to me at starbucks and only felt comfortable again when he was murmuring to himself, because by then I could pinpoint a possible cause for him not behaving as I would expect. I could blame it on not enough sleep or to much caffeine but really it was just outdated instincts going off (danger danger Will Rogers – this man may attack you with a floss stick. )

She wanted to kill her sister because though her sister loves her, she doesn't care about her, and her actions tend to be stronger and less considerate than our character can handle. Namely, they both have an affair with the same guy, but it was a one night (or rather one afternoon) thing for the murderous sister, and it worked out longer & better (at least for some time) for the inconsiderate sister. Neither of them had great marriages, but our girl was merely bored, while the sister had endured much worse.

I think it's stupid that the Imam had to take a different flight.

I was at a stadium on Sunday. As I was walking by myself through a crowd, I peered into a baby stroller. I saw a small person, age unknowable in my brief glance, but who looked about 57, whose eyes were bulging and looking at nothing with visible blue veins in the eyelids, and whose face seemed to have been put on somewhat sideways. I forced out what I hoped was the loving, approving smile I give to all babies in baby strollers. I hope the feelings of shock and fear weren't evident.

okay, not to poke fun at the baby you saw but I saw this on t.v. last night and thought of your story.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Ymn0bPtbss

this is one of my favourite shows, it's usually just putting people in unexpected situations to see how they'll react.

from the same episode
http://justforlaugh.net/2011/funniest-a ... man-pranks

This poem came to my inbox this morning. Made me think of you and this poem of yours.

More Lies
by Karin Gottshall

Sometimes I say I’m going to meet my sister at the café—
even though I have no sister—just because it’s such
a beautiful thing to say. I’ve always thought so, ever since

I read a novel in which two sisters were constantly meeting
in cafés. Today, for example, I walked alone
on the wet sidewalk, wearing my rain boots, expecting

someone might ask where I was headed. I bought
a steno pad and a watch battery, the store windows
fogged up. Rain in April is a kind of promise, and it costs

nothing. I carried a bag of books to the café and ordered
tea. I like a place that’s lit by lamps. I like a place
where you can hear people talk about small things,

like the difference between azure and cerulean,
and the price of tulips. It’s going down. I watched
someone who could be my sister walk in, shaking the rain

from her hair. I thought, even now florists are filling
their coolers with tulips, five dollars a bundle. All over
the city there are sisters. Any one of them could be mine.

Apologies for butting in on a girly chat but I enjoyed your post above.
Lovely poem Manna,
So cate is like a sister? Nice touch?
Or it's the cafe gig that does it? Yes that must be it, I suppose.

I feel for her "loss"; that never was.

MatbbgJ

Mat, you are welcome to join in girly chat anytime you like.

Manna I really enjoyed the poem.
I liked traveling with her and loved the little details. I’m rather partial to sister fantasies as well.
Thank you for sharing it with me, I’m going to explore some more of her poems.

xx
cate

… one day we should meet in a café and pretend to be sisters – you have coffee and I’ll have tea and we can discuss the cost of tulips.

I see you have 2222 posts so far Cate;
that has to be an auspicious number!!

Mat.

...and now I see that this post has 444 visits.
Lucky I'm not overwhelmed by "numbers".
...but they do intrigue me occasionally.
I'll settle for coincidence this time.

Mat

oh no if I respond my lucky number will be lost

...and now I see that this post has 444 visits.
Lucky I'm not overwhelmed by "numbers".
...but they do intrigue me occasionally.
I'll settle for coincidence this time.

me to, I can't say that I believe in numerology or astrology or the reading of hands or feet or cards but I'm a bit fascinated with it.

xx