Morning Coffee

Black Coffee

Ha ha, a message
smiling at my open teeth.
It says “I’ll be the white shirt girl
With a red rose for my Rosa”
A cup of black coffee
to await my white shirt bloke.

I won’t pay with card,
it takes too long, too long.
Salt knocking on soft tissues
caging my swollen eyes
I may let down a river
on the black counter.

I can’t seem to find it
eyes are wet, vision blurred,
my bag is a puddle of crystal mess.
It should be here, in this side space.
This is taking too long,
why is this taking too long.

Two pounds fifty she says
Her sand teeth, a cage to all sympathy
Her eyebrows raised
up in disdain at my gittery.
Her nose turned to smell
Bullshit as I search for it.

I’ll pay with the round disk
burning holes in my purse.
I’ll carry my cup
to the table at the corner
where I wait at sun rise
letting the black river
travelling down the path
whiskey travelled last night.

This river shocks the acid
threatening to escape my eyes.
as I burn a dent in the black sofa
waiting for you
Waiting for you

You, a love that was never to be
I know this, I know this. I do know this
I was here, right here, here at this corner
When the noise of tires screeching
Chattered my world

It was here, I saw
The artist painting a red map
On a cotton white shirt.
A red rose laying beside
A blank eyes, tears.
An open mouth, drool
An empty skull,

The river flowed that day.
Drowning my happiness as your
words echoed in my helmet
I’ll be the white shirt girl
With a red rose for my Rosa.
@kayo Logun


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