coffee black

the coffee is burnt
and tastes like
layers of paint
peeling off bridges
over brackish rivers.

missive

do you think i care
about they way
things are supposed
to be done?


you are:
homemade macaroni and cheese
really good science fiction short stories
my favorite episode of every tv show i've ever loved
turning off the porch light
the breaking of winter
and
a little bit
too much


i can't write a poem
to save my life.
i can't write a song
that makes you my wife
(or at least
the person
who drinks
the extra
coffee
that i make)
i want to do something
volcanic
magnetic
disruptive
hopeful
disinterested in
my own happiness
without borders
and
without
pollution.

i wandered through the town you're from, and heard about the things you'd done. just when i thought they'd said enough, i turned around and heard you laugh. the city escaped in your breath, and everything that was black and white found color again.