Off the street, in from the damp pre-Spring air, and into the warm coffee house. Just in time to catch the last short set of the acoustic version of the band La Overtoner. I got a water to drink. The Stouts I'd had were settling just fine now. The ten other bodies buzzed around me, some listening, some talking shop, some promoting style, some trying to contain the caffeine vibe pulsating through their minds and veins. I sat back. The haunting music lulled me. The lyrical ride was on. Reverb to be had. Sweet Stout and dark night. Three minute dreams. Hushed winter.
reflections from the southeast PA rural underground