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.