From my bloggy blog.
If he ever sees this, my commercial caffeine habits are royally screwed over.

—

Oh! Blessed is the unchanced encounter!
Thoughtness drops as you casually drop
my name. And I intercept it
before it falls into the hellish flames
roughly seven years between us.
(while it still tastes like honey-soaked nervous sweat;
thin layer; on my sensory nose-nerves)

I lean against the counter, ever-nonchalant,
as you fashion my life-thread nectar -
you flip the levers – noon-after-noon.
It’s cute when you pretend to take down my name, and
two shots – click, click -
like I haven’t yet branded it on your register screen.

Then! Shot of sunshine:
The image of your half shy-grin, faux-chagrin,
incinerates a quick-burning imprint in my detached eye.
But like the flame licks the fraying cloth,
it only consolidates after melting
my head – and heart’s – workings.
Your sly affection snapshot-stops
the unraveling of my affected.

Solipsis, mmm,
you release a laughter normal with the bath-of-glow,
and you ask if we’ve already spoken of your band
and your new demos.
Ha! Even if we did, I’d bring it up again
if only to see your smokes-green eyes droop
in coincidence with your alternating softspoken/confident,
casually succinct diction.

I avert my smoke-screen eyes as best I can
as I leave. In case you realize my age.
So at the table outside, I sit,
replaying in my blushing pride,
that charitable time of day,
as you eye me through glass encasing.

Whatever! I am the flea on a starving dog,
itching to be
your left hand’s one resilient freckle.
(If I may assume you have one.)