The cats are in the spare room
howling.
I am in the dining room
carefully counting coffee beans and
placing them in the grinder
I count them one by one.
One too many will render the coffee
bitter.
One too short will render the coffee
weak.
It is, perhaps, the only area of my life where
meticulousness and order exists.
I smile in the dark light as
the grinder drowns out the howls.

Floating with the desire that quiets my mind,
I think of him, towering and muscular,
standing on a porch thousands of miles away.,
saluting each passing neighbor
with the steaming cup in his left hand.
The birds are chirping.
The dog at his feet is speculating the
attack of an unsuspecting caterpillar.
He arranges his large frame on the porchswing
and begins to "chat" online
with a newer more exotic love
across a foreign ocean.
The cup of instant coffee in his hand,
belies the patience he professes to
possess.

Perched on the porch swing sipping instant
coffee in a city that takes its coffee seriously,
a city where the coffee gods may descend upon him
with a vengeance; He appears unconcerned.
He tells me that only I know what is in his cup.
I take it as a metaphor for all the
secrets between us.

I have no front porch;
no outdoor space in which to sit and
drink my freshly ground coffee,
No chirping birds, no exotic lovers
across a foreign ocean.
I have only the sounds of pigeons
mating outside the window on
the sill of this fourth floor walkup,
and the infernal howling
of these cats in my spare room,
living on the borrowed time,
I have grudgingly allowed them.
I stretch out on the bed,
coffee cup in hand contently
reminiscing about times
once borrowed.
The realities occur at random intervals.

My mind flashes back to him and me
sitting on a front porch together,
the air thick with the aftermath of lovemaking.
Jewel’s Morning Song filled
the spaces in between our words.
The pungency of sexual odors
melded with the scent of freshly brewed.
We sat on a porch in that city that
takes its coffee seriously, as
the love gods and coffee gods
smiled upon us broadly.

Now, he sits alone on a different
porch in the same city where
we once sat together, longing
to be with his new love.
I lie on a bed alone, miles and miles away,
remembering, always remembering.
Carefully, I balance the coffee cup
with my left hand, on my knees.
I dare not lose a drop.

11/27/2010

Posted on 11/27/2010
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