his mind’s a
coffee
shop
with its
murmurs..
spills..
and lack of quiet
space,
amidst head’s busiest
times of
day.
coffee shop
i don’t sip
coffee
yet inhale its breeze
from a table
over,
wondering what it means
to the lips it
warms
on this morning
come too
quick.
hands in the garden 
You must be logged in to post a comment.