so coffee is a laxative & i am writing this poem on the toilet

in the building two women’s restroom & in the strangest places

i want to tell you the most mundane things                  how this afternoon

our favorite barista added a free extra shot of vanilla to my

coffee with a wink

& a  just because it’s strong doesn’t mean it has to be

& around my straw, I thought            this is what the sharpness of wanting you

tastes like

syrupy

softness of midnight shadow                             in quiet alleys

i finish my own sentences after walking you home

is it too early to say       my smile misses you? my smile’s smile       crescent moony-gazed

your eyes radiant

in the sabbath sun

gossamer sheen

grove christmas tree multichrome