Don’t Leave Me in Cyberspace Let’s Go Get Coffee

Don’t leave me here with him in cyberspace¬†

But she always did

In filthy cyberspace, or at a table in our coffee shop with old men

And her thoughts left with her on the last train taking flight before he sat down across from me

You’re Christian, aren’t you?

No, no I am not. I am a heathen and I am going to hell but

I found god once

in my backyard presiding over maple trees and pine cones

in the Blue Ridge Mountains

and even then I didn’t trust him to sympathize with human loneliness

if you’d like more conversation

I’d like a cigarette

Until she gets back

Cafe Conversation

She invented the cloudy dreaminess in boys eyes and their obvious intentions,

While drinking a golden tea rendered from a sunburst of alien tentacles with a red heart.

He explains he is a budding musician and believes in god so she asks why and says

You can find god in pews, or resounding from the throat of a holy man or

You can find god in the five-lined staff

Where your wings force their way through the skin of your shoulder blades

To glitter or reflect the steely pall of your confessions –

But then sacrilege appears on the patio casting his poison on every frame of her daylight

A blank ghost, with colorless, translucent skin composed of love molecules from her youth.

She suddenly feels she might be compressed to a vanishing dust to be dissipated with the breeze

Becoming only a glint in the saga of conquests

A dead, buried, short story with no premise.

She has forgotten about the young musician and his guitar

And her tea has turned to mud.