i would not want to see your face again

your sad cheeks and your windy hair

under the hood of your jumper

under the sunny rain.

when your face opens to my face

i am stuck to it

and i would like to eat 

my toast in the morning

without getting crumbs on you

though you didn’t seem to mind

a little heap of brown grit

on your chin, and sometimes

soymilk, coffee, and even a spoon.

well, until you do. slowly you 

remove your glasses and put down

your tea, small seismic disruptions 

of the morning routine. i peer at the 

book review intently. the windows

shatter sending glass fragments and 

coffee all around the room.

i keep my eyes

on the paper