bourgeois

pillow light rain fog swallowed the blue
and flirted nostalgia in my nostrils. 
Tip toeing raindrops on passing umbrellas
and a deep breath of cafe' steam; home.  

remembrances bittersweet as my drink
beg for cloud break from my eyes and
thoughts of yesterday's impractical wishes
make my hands reach for something to hold.

often he never notices my quiet stare,
often I hope he wont.
yet, at times our familiar eyes  meet
and his simple nobility condemns me;
bourgeois.