Stuart Watkins
How can I touch you
with this doughnut in my hand?
Why have you come to me now?
You slide your hand across my back
and say, “Good to see you here.”
How do I respond?
Coffee in the left, doughnut in the right,
lips to be wiped,
and now you.
Our eyes met many times past.
Shyness finally overcome.
You and I mentally agreed.
And I,
drinking coffee too hot to sip,
dropping the last doughnut bite
on the floor,
smearing fingers on my back pocket
in haste.
I startle at the sting
of coffee-seared lips
as you pour your coffee
and return to your seat
next to him.