Even humdrum events,
the frothing cup’s rising steam,
or a paper bag spilling contents,
is a slow build-up to a curious dream.
Speech is redundant then, instead-
we balance the quietness on our tongues.
Inside us a thousand mad hornets
stir up a sand-storm which the-
bitter espresso fails to subdue.
You smile your languorous smile-
lips widen across half-shaven jowl.
I long to lick it up from your face-
that smile and the coffee perfume-
to welter in those endless skies
hidden in your mouth, and to
chew on the strange something
that always lingers there.