Coffee

Once upon a time.
princesses wore white,
not tight
black skin over skin.

You know,
exposure does the opposite –
it’s just hiding in plain view.

This shit doesn’t make a man
A man –

Becoming is more difficult
than a few seconds; minutes; moments.

Suddenly, it’s coffee cups
and forced conversation.
Passion
used to cost an arm and a leg,

but now, now it’s nothing but
arms
and
legs;

or perhaps just the spaces in between.

Towards the night,
towards the end of everything that makes a man a man,

shape takes precedence over sound.

What about silence,
what about the in between,

the transitory moment betwixt
then and now,
the rise and fall,
the doorstep and the bedroom?

I can’t answer that –
my breath got stuck in someone else’s chest –
in doorways,
on the stairs,
along a worn out path;
but not so worn:
the dirt still clung to my back.

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2 thoughts on “Coffee

  1. I liked it in like real life and then I also tried to like it on WordPress. Plus I liked it on Facebook. Am I affirming enough for you yet?

    Like

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