NIGHT COFFEE [3]
1
the devil is in my desire
i go to the kitchen. it is cleaned raw in
my frustrations. there is nothing here
for me. nothing i want
i dress slowly, deliberately
make a ritual of removing my nightclothes
shower slowly, sudsing, let the tensions
wash cooly from my blackness, feel
the water drench the edge of my scalp/
that place Mama called "the kitchen"
above the nape of my neck
the years flow drainward
the youthful twist returns returns to my hips
and shoulders. i step onto the icy tiles
and let my feet drink the memories
2
his eyes find me sideways
looking yet not looking/feeling
hand to his joint, jerks slowly
summons a passionately angry hunger
we meet outside the diner by chance.
there's a juke box inside that plays
our favorite oldies. Sinatra slays him.
Strayhorn kills me. the waitress wears a
smirk as she takes our orders as if writing
obituaries. the man at the counter rolls
his shoulders, then turns to offer us a stare.
it's obvious. we don't belong here.
3
i watch the steam curl to his nose
he likes it strong and black with sugar
4
the hands move counterclockwise
i lay beside him in the dawn, listening to
his snores and the noise of occasional traffic
this is a dark city with people full of
bleaknesses with eyes that blaze like suns,
a city at the beginning of timelessness