|
In A Starbucks
By Rich Luftig
She watches the half & half
in her cup expand in concentric rings
like a pebble on a pond, not daring
to look into his eyes where all
of her problems always begin.
She'll listen to him again,
speak all in commas and semi-colons,
a story she's heard so many times
she can correct him
whenever he makes a mistake.
She gazes at a life slipping away
like steamed coffee smoke,
curling up then disappearing
to the ceiling. Then she'll make herself
turn what's left of her attention
back to what he is trying to say,
listening again, struggling
to make sense of his silences,
where the truth may still reside
worth more than a thousand words.
|
