Coffee & Cigarettes
midnight on the porch
frost
on the cracked plastic chair
I take off my mitten
to light a cigarette
evening rush
wiping her hands
on the apron, waiting
winter dust
suspended in the streetlamp
counting his breaths
under gaze of the moon
we steal the moment
just another star
in a never ending sky
•
the
morning
after . . .
fog on the glass
he starts the car
rural red light
the hazy glow
keeps me company
midwinter sun
melting footprints in the doorway
stirring the tea
his first parking ticket
as her bookmark
the kitchen light flickers
then goes out
•
the bare branches
make a puzzle
of the moon
coffee ring
on the water bill
trying to fit our lives
into pictures frames
and videotapes
finding the lighter
in his pocket
abandoned lot
a single blossom
resting in the rusty spokes
his callused hands
the only story to tell
•
the wooden fence
missing a post
like the gap in his smile
lightning splits the sky
in two
the dog running
in his sleep
paws twitching in window light
the uneven concrete
catches her shoe
sneaking a drag
the morning sun
his only witness
after the rain
the blacktop shines
•
the yellow jungle gym
leaves rust
his my palms
autumn wind
carries spirals of color
from the weight
of a snowflake
the last leaf falls
his old mittens
still fit the same
stray snowball
in the moonlight
breaks on the windshield
spoiled milk
forgotten on the porch
•
living room couch
pulling out the cushions
to find the remote
old shoebox
keeps yesterday safe
paper cut
from the child's book
she never stops reading
park bench
he sits in the middle
he tucks
a cherry blossom
behind her ear
on the staircase
always two steps below
• • •