RogueMuirHead: Photography and Writing

Crepe Vine on a Wed 2016

Location: Crepe Vine, SF Bay Area

Almost a packed house tonight. Couples out in the depth of their romantic affairs. The girls out for a mid week break. Almost a night out on the town. To my right what appears to be a mother and daughter are being served their breakfast for dinner entre. Champions. Excited to be alone away from the chaos that is the rest of their family.

In a back booth a couple intimately whispers to themselves. Caressing hands beneath the table, inching closer and closer to the focal point for the body’s bio electric field. Their eyes glazed, stimulated beyond—

Their food has arrived. Breaking away they blush at the sight of their crepes as they submit to their hunger. The young waiter only smiling as he places the plates down.

In front of me a girl sits. Her mussed up bob, punked out in her grey flannel and her goonies “live or die” shirt. She stares deeply into her phone as she waits for her order. Facebook keeping her company. All the while she wonders why she has nothing interesting to post. Status check in. “Food for one. I am gonna masticate tonight!”

When her food arrives we capture each other’s glance. Feigning that friendly smile she takes her leave.

A fresh date two steps to the right and forwards one row in the chessboard of chairs and tables. Possible friends? Potential lovers?

He speaks as she tries to eat.  His elbow freshly on the table, hand gesturing in mid air as she nods in understanding. Her jaw keeping pace with the fire of words about himself. There is a short pause. He is not sure how to keep the conversation going.

A veteran server teaches the ropes to a young fledgling. He too will soon master the trade of balancing the entire beverage platter on one hand. The secret is in the shoulder.

The jabberwock continues to talk. She only feigns to listen.  The “get to know you stance.”  However, her head turns. Cocksided with a slight grin, something has caught her and now she is entranced. He spoke the magical  verbiage. She slowly musses with her hair. Firing back with a laugh as her fingers are intertwined within her carefully placed mass. The words are lost for me through the collapsing plates heading into the dishwasher.

He continues to dominate the conversation. Her arms crossed in front of her. She listens, laughs, her head falls back as her feet inch closer to his. Yet, she is still not sure. She asks questions and he answers. She wants to know if its safe. Not to share too much. Although he may have prepared for this script. The line of questioning as she grills her suspect from which he comes. This couple will stay till the last call is uttered. Their plates, full and cold with two humans possibly knowing each other a little better.

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