Conversations

Perhaps I remember our conversations

In the morning over lattes and the prologues

Of our favorite books

All the attempts at reconciling are saturated

On the delicately cracked plate

And the ash from your cigar conjures

A flamenco dance down into the Eggs Benedict 

Small gestures you never cared for

Cause me to look straight past you

Out of boredom

Out of madness

My latte is cold and blistered with foam

Remnants of the days that have

Gone by are all that remain

Along with the conversations

That we’ve hypothetically organized

It was never like this in Alaska

We pressed forward

The art piece that was a gift

From my former lover catches

The soft light from the rising sun

Dust particles lustfully dance around it

I watch the steam plummet into the morning

From my cup

My face aches as it forms a smile

The natural lines of deceit are written

Upon my scoured flesh