Sipping dreams at a sidewalk café
where clinging vines creep
and the clientele isn’t what it seems.
Romance in the afternoon
and film noir at night,
it’s delicious mystery not to be believed.
A mascaraed gaze over a wineglass rim
watches shadowed movements
in the adjoining booth.
Fixated on deception and telltale signs,
it’s only my imagination
unless I perceive the truth.
©October 2015, Christina Anne Hawthorne