COFFEE AND THE MID-LIFE CRISIS   

Coffee bleeds from the lip of my cup

"Perhaps I need to walk in the shoes I describe", I say to him
I finger my paperback and it's postcard bookmark
"The passion of the boy was suffocated by the man", he replies
His smile is the peeling bark off a hollow tree
- it's unglued veneer

I lick the blood from my cup that runneth over

"Fill the vacuum with columns of marble", I say to him
"A structure on which to rebuild", I explain to him
Through the trails of smoke that lace off his cigarette
His eyes trace a blonde from tip to toe
"But I can't just go with the flow", he replies

The postcard journeys me
Journeys me home
"Build a raft from what you control", I say to him
"Then float on what you can't", I explain to him
But his loneliness stretches across the table
To suck all the life I have left
And drains me of sympathy

I swallow the blood from my chalice
Coffee to return the flow
And I get up to go
Before he takes my breath, too

The cool evening air is pallid in the set-sun
I walk in my shoes, the shoes that fit
Then drive home through thick jazz
My elbow on the sill
The coffee staining my breath acrid
And I quietly thank God that I'm free

© 2006 Michael Hogan