Monday, August 9, 2010

Cold Coffee Morning

Give me some semblance of understanding
on this nicotene tinged morning
help me muster the guts
it takes to spark conversation.

No longer naked, yet newly a stranger
eyes dart from ashtray, to window,
to saltshaker
avoiding the contact of my gaze.

I serve you a cup of coffee from across the table
you dabble with the spoon, add more sugar
avoiding the awkward talking
sparking another cigarette & shaking
out your match.

Last night we spoke in tongues
I learned your word for release
& I let it drip there, still warm.

You talked so much my head grew heavy
now a mere good morning
seems to make you demure
You were'nt so shy by the time "Wild horses"
was playing
your bra unlatched
a hand in your panties, diving for pearls.

I guess sometimes in the cold harsh light
of a hungover day
there is never really anything to say.

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I'm open to feedback, but remember this is a diary. Most of these posts are first drafts and as such are unedited. Editing & revising my posts would negate the purpose of this blog for me. Thanks.