My Custom My Custom

It’s become my custom
To give a little time each day
To a coffee shop along my way 

The door is broken
And playlist jazz quietly plays
Here life does not slip away 

If my life is my work
And generous is the pay
Why is it there that life slips away?

If my wife is my life
And we are joined on our way
Why with her does time slip away?

The door is propped open
October chill wafts my way
A girl with cold cheeks studies for her day.

She’s young, barely a woman,
At el centro everyday 
Does her time slip away?

Why is she wearing earbuds
While Theolonius fondles a key
Like a boy with his first willing girl
Tentatively exploring and amazed 
At an amorous reply?
What sacrilege is this?

A book and bitter double expresso.
An entrepreneur’s ambitions.
Monk exploring a major chord.
The pale girl doesn’t need rouge 
In October

It’s become my custom
To give a little time each day 
To an unknown girl whose time passes away