You can still get a decent cup of coffee for $2.50 ($2.50!!!) at the PCC, so I occasionally plant myself there (no points for charm, but ok for a certain type of people watching) and, like at any “café,” read, and possibly write. This is my third PCC poem. PROSPERO AT THE PCC I see his wrist and hand stirring But my view of what is blocked It may be the cream in his coffee or a tempest in a tea cup or He may be Prospero summoning a storm upon the ocean.
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