He taps the insides of the cup
As he stirs his coffee with a cheap spoon -
Sugar, sugar-
Then throws it down with a clank
On the metal table.
I am afraid that he will tell me this despair is because
Our world has ended
suns are exploding and the moon
has abandoned the earth leaving us all
wandering in eternal darkness.
Tears slide down the well
worn
deep creases
that began to define his features
when he was only three.
There is a path of least resistance somewhere that we’ve never known.
He shakes his head in disgust.
Clicks his tongue over and over.
Our silence is binding-
Absolute.
Because what can one say about all those years
No good fortune, no talisman
Only sorrow and bad bad luck.
I won’t disturb this sad silence.
Everything I’ve ever wanted to know is there
In that occasional shake of the head,
That involuntary click of the tongue
That echoes with the insistence of memory.
I tap the insides of my cup with my spoon
And fling it on the table.
He covers his face with his hands.
And as I watch the
sun falls –
the moon weeps-
His face enters my dreams and I am told,
I click my tongue in my sleep.