always the cafe

November 21, 2010
he always walks in now.
the jacket rides stiff.
do you feel that?
sorry about the cheap leather.

coffee steams from his lashes.
i am so sleepy sleepy.
bitter black would be nice.
hair never falls quite right.
he runs finger over finger.
fingers are strung with marionettes.
they say everything.
i wish his words did.
words hold too many syllables.

he always walks out now.
and the cafe hums along.

i should've could've locked eyes.
i didn't.

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