I’m sorry, I’ll say yes next time

I had just left the office.  I was there for 11 hours and needed to relax a bit before going home.  I decided to stop by Symposium in Tigard, one of my favorite spots for a latte. 

I arrived and chose two books, my Bible, and a notebook to take in with me.  I wanted to read, write some poetry, and rest my mind. 

I walked to the counter and since I hadn’t had dinner, I ordered a piece of chocolate bread.  “I got you the best piece,” said the young man serving.  I proceeded to order an iced oat milk decaf latte, opting with oat over hemp to save a dollar.

I sat down and my mind began to fill with words.  I started writing a poem and I got this far…

I wanted to write a poem.

I wanted to share my heart.

I didn’t know how to share.

I didn’t know where to start.

I didn’t know if you’d read this.

I didn’t know if you’d care.

As I contemplated my next line, a rugged looking man, unshaven and with multiple coats on was turned away from the counter.  He appeared to be quite disoriented as he made some unanswerable sounds.  I turned and looked as he walked out the door and he immediately took advantage of my eye contact.  He stopped with the door open and asked me a question.  I couldn’t understand so I just nodded.  He asked a second time.  I simply put my head down, ignored him, and continued contemplating the next line of my poem.

He walked over to my seat and reached out his hand.  I’m not a full blown germophobe but I have boundaries, so I opted for a fist bump.

He mumbled something again.  I didn’t understand so I shook my head ‘no’ and he walked away.

After he left, I was processing his mumbles in my head and all of a sudden, it hit me what he had said.  He had asked me if I would buy him something. 

The obvious answer was ‘yes.’

I turned around to see if he was still there but he was gone.  I looked out the window but couldn’t find him.

Although the obvious answer was ‘yes,’ my natural reaction was ‘no.’

It was my time.  It was my poem.  It was my latte.

I hope that one day my answer will be ‘yes’ and then afterwards, I’ll figure out what was said.

And I proceeded to write the last two lines of my poem.

I wanted to write a poem.

I wanted to share my heart.

I didn’t know how to share.

I didn’t know where to start.

I didn’t know if you’d read this.

I didn’t know if you’d care.

Maybe I looked in the wrong place.

Maybe you were standing right there.