Java Dreams

January 25, 2012

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surveiling the curve of her hips
through the steam of his latté
that curve, he thinks
could engulf my world

wiping fog from his lenses
he gazes blurry at the sway
inhales her rockingchair walk
catches his breath when the pendulum
as her bleachwatered hands
press and smooth
her apron flat

how he’d love
to press it flat
smooth over those arching bones
the archway to heaven to be sure

he dreams
of being cradled and soothed
in a mug of steaming hips
as broad as the equator
as hot as frothed milk

he doesn’t notice her take notice
of biscotti bits
dangling from a hairy lip

she prays
with sighs she keeps
in her pockets like change
with a desire
darker and stronger
than day old Turkish coffee
that he’ll brush the crumbs
from his whiskers and table
and leave
or leave a much sweeter tip

(c) 2005 karen suriano

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