it's an ill war that doesn't blow some good.

i went into a place with windows
to drink a slow coffee.

some people came in and
some went out.
a young pair of sock-puppets
collapsed briefly
as they waited for their half-and-half breves.

Most people's parents let them know
that it isn't polite to collapse
in public, but
the parents of these two
must have been away on business
when in came up-
so they did it anyway,
even though they were old enough to know.

they collapsed briefly,
and from around the cafe I
recognized the dull electric smell of jealousy.
and then the mug
my coffee was in took on an irish accent
but continued not saying anything
until i left
before midnight
and after one.

No comments:

Post a Comment