I’m sitting in Peet’s with my usual Cappuccino, reading.  
I stop for a sip, trace the rim of the cup with my finger,
look out the window at Stevens Creek Boulevard.  

Across the street cars are pulling in and out
of the Whole Foods parking lot. The construction workers
who were tearing up the road when I arrived

have collected their orange cones and gone home,
leaving their gashes in the asphalt covered with large
metal rectangles.  The sun is making its final effort

to illuminate the world for another day. The foothills
above town are ready for Cézanne to come along
and capture the geometry of dusk.  Suddenly, light

catches the trees along the sidewalk for a moment.  
Though the top branches are bare, a few amber leaves,
still clinging to lower branches, shimmer.  

I take another sip, grateful for the way the milk
and the espresso both calm and excite the nervous system.  
With my glasses off, the cars resemble logs

being carried by a river current and the leaves
look like fuzzy yellow stars and the foothills—
I’ll leave the foothills to my friend Cézanne.


© copyright 2007 David Denny

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Published in California Quarterly

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