He desires
the jaded ones —
cynical smiles and spiked
collars; faces pale with 4 a.m. —
not makeup; bleeding
poetry into empty
coffee cups.
One smiles at him,
bleakly. “C’mere, pretty boy.
Get me some coffee.”
After gulping it down,
she turns to kiss
her girlfriend. Tongues
twist in the dim light
and he can almost taste
the coffee.
They’d eat him alive.
“More coffee, boy.”
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
October 25, 1996