I'm thinking of a lady with no patience
who just sat down to try a pair of shoes.
She bared one naked foot and tensely waited
Her eyes shone bright with anger and reprove.
She pulled tight in her hands the leather laces
and stood before the shoe salesman could move.
He fell back to the floor and hesitated
While he watched her running out with a stolen shoe.
She turned the corner quickly and debated;
Should she run like a thief?
Should she seek some relief
In this cafe on a street
Where they would not know her by name.
This woman without patience ordered latte.
I was pouring milk, but curdled in her stare.
I offered her espresso or a coffee.
She said she'd have it now, she didn't care.
She spilled some as she limped
back through the lobby.
I followed with a towel and knelt beside her chair.
She dumped on me the steaming cup of coffee.
Then stood right up and left me kneeling there.
I saw that shoe and overviewed her body
As she ran out the door,
her cup smashed the floor.
She turned round a corner
And returned the stolen shoe.
That night he brought the coffee shop his story;
I heard him tell a man on the leather stool.
When I looked up from the steamer I was frothing
and the salesman spoke until the cup was cool.
I threw it out to grind some beans before he
Shot me a glance that said I was a fool.
I cursed and said "the steamer isn't working."
He chimed "Only a poor craftsman blames his tool."
So I never told him my side of the story.
He'll never know what she did
when she came in and hid.
Ordered coffee with a lid
and I served it in ceramic instead.
I'm dreaming of that lady with no patience.
I hope she comes in wanting latte again.
She won't even need to ask me for a refill
if she wears a stolen glove upon her hand.
I'd buy her all she wanted just to see her
give another barista that same scare.
I'm dreaming for that lady with no patience
to slap him with her glove and disappear.