Remembering Old Coffee Houses

Long before Starbucks came on the scene, there were coffee houses. Places heavy with smoke and serious discussions. Chess games being played on small tables. Poems being recited by a few folks in a dark corner. Political conversations everywhere.
I used to hang out, whenever I skipped school that is, at a place called Hungry Charlie's in Harvard Square. It had that sort of atmosphere.
But if you wanted some serious coffee experience you wandered down the road lined with old brick buildings to a small coffee house tucked in between some store fronts. It was an exotic place. Filled with quiet people sipping tiny cups of Turkish coffee. The music was always matched the place. Foreign sounds, that transported you to far off places. It seemed a place for dreamers.
The mornings sunrise reminded me of all the places I have had coffee.
Even though I have had coffee in actual far off places, this tiny shop in Harvard Square has to be the one that evoked the feeling of espionage and secrets.
I don't even remember the name of the place, it never seemed important to remember.
This morning in honor of that tiny spot in a different time and space, I made myself a cup of thick and gritty Turkish coffee, listened to a CD Melissa gave me for my birthday, titled Turkish Groove, as if she knew this moment would come for me. I burned frankincense and myrrh. The room was smoky and outside the sky full of drama.
Perfect morning to remember the places I have been in the world.