Reading “Poem” While Waiting for her in Peet’s Coffee

Lukewarm coffee with nothing special
in it, and my brain buzzing
with words passed through a phone.
Ah, I’d love to go back to those days
spent singing and seeing colors in cement
questions asked precariously of my life
and yours, your and my possibilities.
But staring into the beyond, I am left
disappearing quick in the cold air like the warmth of coffee left on the table.


Precariously

in love
I was caressed to the point where
my face left itself
impressioned on the pillow
I pressed into every night.
My head was clear
because it was expelled
each night into a cell phone
away from here. It reached
an ear, soft and embracing
swallowing all I pressed into it.

The indentation I left
I saw as me
held precariously
in the head
of another.

Now, head spinning,
ready to be filled with anything
stable or not, I at least remember
being held.


Poem*

Is this love, now that the first love
has finally died, where there were no impossibilities?*

I saw no impossibilities with you
held there in all I wanted. True
there was bliss, but if what they say is true,
what else is that?
I remember more color
pointed out by you,
blues and oranges in shadows on cement
reds in faces and how the sky is the only one
who can blend yellow with blue, but

now all colors are an option
for this palette
though all colors mixed
leave grey