An Afternoon Conversation over Spilled Smoothie
In a café over conversation,
As surely as did melt that smoothie
That afternoon
Strawberry, mango, ice and all;
I put my lips to her,
Where once she blended
Into past concoctions
Of skin, and flesh, and core.
Today, her pieces lay in front of me,
In a café over conversation.
Instead of rubbing out the traces
On my skin, and flesh, and core,
Oblivious to the café goers,
Her stain became a part of me.
And drunk with her syrup
I did not wash ait down with bleach.
