12-19-09

There’s a draft where I’m sitting by the window in the coffee shop. Downstairs the protesters are loud and complaining, talking about cops and making roaring noises. I wish it would snow, so I could sit here by the window feeling it, sipping on a chai latte, breathing in the steam through the cold.

Pennsylvania is so far away right now. Nine hundred miles east they’re getting my snow storm and staying inside baking and wrapping presents and preparing for Christmas in one week. I’ll be home for Christmas, but it’s not soon enough. At least it wasn’t a lie when I said, “I’ll see you Monday.”

Outside, it’s still not snowing. The cars keep driving by and the Middle Eastern man wears a Santa hat while the white man stands at the corner alone, holding a sign about peace. He could befriend the No Hate protesters downstairs if only he came in from the cold, came in to seek some hot chocolate or a coffee, but there’s nothing to drive him in right now.