It Has Nothing to Do With The Coffee
You woke me.
All night the bench was hard
and I had to move to the scrub pines three times
when headlights shined down the prom.
The sun is warm now
and I don’t have to move no matter who comes.
It’s a beautiful day
though I did wish I could have
the remainder of the coffee you
threw in the trashcan next to me
while you were speaking into your phone
to someone in Portland about being on vacation
and how ‘they’ could go fuck themselves.
I didn’t feel bad for you even after a pause
when you said: “I’ll be there this afternoon god damn it.”
It has nothing to do with the coffee,
I can get their cans.
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