Broadway Bagel

We come.
Every morning we come.
Not for egg sandwiches
or puffed-up pastries
not for consistently
cheap and mediocre coffee
not to soak up vibes of
craggy regulars disoriented
European tourists discursive
profs harried nannies
not because se habla espanol
not for truck exhaust and occasional
blown-in trash not for syrupy
pop music played mercifully low
not for the ATM
not for sculpturesque mounds
of flavored cream cheese
on display not even because
it’s only a block and a half a-
way.

We come because the Bodhi-
sattva* behind the counter always
wears his Yankee cap never
loses his cool always displays a
smile so wide it threatens to crack his
cheeks. (Seriously – I worry
about this all the time.)
How does a grown man
father probably of many children
look fourteen for years on end;
maintain his aura on his feet all
day in this shabby joint
making sure bagels
are lightly toasted or dark
coffee is light or dark
whether customers’ moods are
light or dark?

We come we chew we muse
and mull and we will continue to
come back until this mystery is
solved.




*In Buddhism, a person who strives for enlightenment for the sake of all humankind