I keep having a dream
over and over again
of you, sitting cross-legged
at the table with me
in some dim-lit, dusty-shelf café
with a twenty dollar menu
and a cat that won't stop staring me down.

You don't sip your coffee
but you spin the styrofoam cup slowly around in circles.
Disappointed with me, clearly.
Some dim-witted, dusty-haired man
with a twenty-dollar haircut
asks, "do you need a refill?"

He's referring to the now-cold, still-full cup
you've been staring at
for the past twenty minutes.
"No thanks, this one's fine."
As if you've actually been
sipping it instead of staring me down.

An old man in the booth behind you
starts telling a story to a younger man
twenty years his junior
about how he met his wife
in a coffee shop all to similar to this.
Irony in a coffee shop.

He went on to tell
all about his wife.
Beautiful blonde hair, green eyes
the legs of a goddess
and the voice of an angel.
"The perfect woman," he said.

But you're clearly not listening
distracted by the conversation
that we're having
(in your head, that is).
I think I'm losing that battle...
Meanwhile, there's a cat that keeps staring me down.

I hadn't noticed until then
you had taken your ring off.
A pale band of skin
gave away what you were trying to hide.
As if to say
"Nice try, *****!"

My dream never ends.
I mean, I wake up
but the dream itself is never resolved.
I don't know if I want it to be.
I'd rather spend twenty dollars to watch some kittens dance
and pretend that everything is okay.