honeyed coffee tiny steaming cups on a balcony in the heart of the city sunset district, suburbia subsided this eden, a place i never thought i would be the backyards under us spread out vacantly like the lives unwinding within them lives made out of t-shirt dish rags and patched flannel pants and dim sum on sundays sunset impending, the glare on the ocean bright as his eyes strident as the sound of his voice when he talks about her the crackle of emotion weakening my knees i stir and stir cup cradled in my hand as the spoon clinks we ladle honey into our coffee, dripping golden ichor divine sin on his lips in the fading light and i sink lower beyond the horizon as the dregs of his coffee run down his chin onto his shirt for a moment i wish i was her if only to give him something more to miss
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