Poetry in motion

I'm just back from a poetry workshop. No, really. I must confess to feeling a bit like Mike Myers doing his "beat poet" bit in So I Married An Axe Murderer (well worth watching this clip by the way...)

We were asked to come up with a wee poem following a series of prompts from the workshop leader - herself a published poet. Ironically, the event was organised by the John Muir Trust, who (which?) are (is?) all about the outdoors and 'wild places.' Appropriate, then, that I chose to do mine about a coffee shop in the west end of Glasgow.

Tinderbox

Spring. Summer.
Could be.
Could not.

A scooter in the window.
Car on the road.

Heavy glass.
Hard wood.
Struggle as I
Push the symmetry.
Breaking the symmetry
Opening just one door.

Burbling, brewing.
Foaming, frothing.
A-ra-bi-ca.
Ro-bus-ta.

Who used these words before?
Who knew these words before?
Barista.
But not a lawyer.
Illegal use of the word?

Post lunch.
Pre dinner.
Teenage Fanclub.
A mobile.
Another mobile.

Hot milk.
Warm bread.
Panini?
Panino, surely.
I only wanted the one.