sticky bubbles dried on the spoon, it was past midday. coffee was cold, still sweet. sugar in a glass jar and a dark dark wooden table, rich. i thought of squirrels and nests and felt sorry.
i saw bendy black banisters and wire lamplights – a stack of highchairs and three girls in round glasses.. spectacled beauty. my insides jumped and milk mixed sorely with acid.
he has long long hair – maybe he is lightning. i should have stayed, oh i should have stayed but is not one’s own company the best to enjoy while one is still bearable?
ONE! TWO! THREE!
three gongs on some hidden chime. a glinting silver cup rises and falls, bread is broken. it melts in my mouth like snow, the dark red wine is strong and bitter. i looked to the windows as i walked to my seat.
here is my golden pen. it is not enough no never enough not beautiful enough for mother’s day – nothing nothing is! i want to give her the world and everything in it.