Two Coffees Left Untouched
i dreamt of us sitting down in an anonymous cafe,
over the table, the camera blinked silly at our coffees.
untouched.
a close-up on their brown surfaces reveals nothing,
not even evidence of the point-of-view camera.
silence.
my two hands lying dead on my thighs, as I
glanced downwards into the darkened space beneath.
beyond.
i was thinking up galaxies of meanings far far away
galaxies of possibilities that cannot be reached nor breached.
my imagination, desires and imagined desires took me far away from this cafe
as we share this hibernating silence between us: the silence threatens to pour
over
from our quiet lives. winter has come and the snow is piling up and
strangely hiroshima comes to mind as I gazed out into the white night.
beyond
there was nothing. nothing but our two empty hands and
the two full cups of coffee we ordered but left untouched.
silence.
you remained silent all this while, only looking down at your tiny hands
and i wondered what was it that you were wondering about your world
untouched.
