You’re sitting right across from me.
A new you,
A new me,
We walk up and order our coffee,
hand-in-hand to the register,
They give you all the time you need,
to scan the bloated menu,
Standing on this side of the counter,
when you stood on the other to face me.
I laugh to think,
that coffee is still your mistress,
steamy lover, that you keep on the side.
Brewing coffee, was always an art to you.
A sistine chapel in every cup.
I thought it was sexy,
how you’d get lost in the process,
like you would,
a piece by Coltrane.
The college kid in uniform,
black polo and khaki pants,
green apron and baseball cap,
feels familiar like an old sweater I once wore,
like jeans I’ve washed a thousand times,
and can slip into,
like a second skin.
We are standing in a store.
You’re fidgeting like a bored kid.
Your mouth explodes with laughter,
as I hold up a black polo to your chest (like a mom).
“This. Definitley this.” I tell you, with a smile.
You agree, and gently kiss my nose.
I re-lived that moment, every time I saw you wearing it.
I always stopped by Starbucks,
to do “work” and “book gigs.”
You’d meet me behind the building to make-out.
my heart flushed like a deck of cards,
And I could never tell,
if we were 16,
You’d come home buzzing like a hot, loose wire,
smelling like sugar and bitter beans.
You’re skinny jeans,
dirty with a long days shift.
You’re eyes so green and fluttering wildly.
I wanted to devour you,
before you got through the door.
Here we are again,
sitting at a table.
You have a drink in your hand.
You’re buried in your writing.
The veins in your fingers remind me,
of the first time,
I ever touched you.
This love is for me,
like coffee was for you,
a Sistine Chapel in the making;
a masterpiece anew.
And like we did in your basement,
listening to Radiohead as kids,
I still get lost in the process,
of rediscovering you.
Like jeans I’ve washed a thousand times,
and can slip into like a second skin,
[while at the same time] Like a city I’ve never been to,
or a sunset I’ve never seen.
It’s a place that they call TBI,
that we now call home.
So strange to us both,
I’m a wanderer in this new land.
I’m lost, and don’t know my way.
Teach me to speak the language of you,
….you are today.