café

the two vieillards sat at a café,

having a heated argument,

the matter of which was trivial,

something you probably wouldn't understand.

suffice to say one was winning,

punctuating his every remark

with another bite of Stella d'Oro.

a French biscotti you've probably never heard of.

like a storied Musketeer of old,

he eviscerated his opponent's rebuttals

and took a sip of his dark, dark roast,

not as good as my own, but perhaps decent on its own merits.

the loser gave up in an ugly display of frustration,

and it was then i just could not help myself.

i deftly grabbed my home-brewed coffee, walked over,

and proceeded to tell the winner why he was wrong.