love

forty years

thirty-six moves

four states

surely it was you

I was not dreaming

you

in my room

in my bed

between my legs

it was your neck

your chin

your jaw line

I'm sobbing

for in brown, tufted chair

front corner of comfy coffee shop

my lover sits legs entwined

caressing mug of hot chai

nutmeg, cinnamon

drop through foam

spring break, mid-week afternoon

the continuous din of highpitched voices

echoes off cavernous metal roof and

every few minutes the cacphony is