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My fantasies of you are more potent
that this piping hot, quadruple-shot
venti sized white chocolate mocha
making me palpitate and
pulling my eyes wide open and
pushing sleep
to the periphery of my memory
my own private sunrise, you are
and all I have to do is think of you

for the blessing of
the very first breaking dawn
I’ve witnessed in a long, long time
I thank you

looking into your dark,
dark eyes
is far more powerful
than peering into
the bottom of this cup
because the traces on the grounds
tell me you won’t be
anywhere in my future
well, my reflection
on your dark irises
tells me where I am at present
and that is enough,
for now

my days are longer
my nights are better
more alive
and I blame you

long after I’ve run amok
romancing the city
long after I’ve given in
to each and every intersection
that coaxes me to walk another block
in a direction opposite from that which
a taxi would have taken
to bring me home
long after my flip-flops are worn
and the soles of my feet are dirty
and I’ve considered the day
more than seized,
but throttled
see I am no Cinderella
way past midnight
after I’ve achieved
that elusive invisibility
everybody has forgotten me
and I get a far enough distance away from
all the places I am expected to be
at this hour
if I ever dropped dead in the street
nobody would figure out
how I got here
this moment when
I am truly alone and unknown
long after the brilliant lights
that I’ve always found too
irresistible to look at
have closed my eyes
and called it a night
long after I’ve flicked the light switch
and I lay breathing deeply in the dark
I’m awake thinking of you

Image by photographer Patrick Caire