Drinking Coffee With You
I look at you and I would rather look at you
than The Accommodations of Desire in the Met
or at Tuolomne Meadows at dusk.
I am sitting with you on the balcony midsummer and I would rather talk to you
than sit here mid-autumn watching the sycamore grow from the second floor.
I won’t kiss you unless you want me to.
Please want me to.
But there is no reality in which you love me,
or a reality where we’re together.
In both worlds, imagined and real,
I end up handcuffed to the floor.
Throughout the years,
we have always drifted in and out of each other.
You are not coming back again and again
and see how the clouds still move.