where u at??

where u at??

twelve minutes past, 

I click my tongue 

tock-tock-tock

to the tempo 

of feet passing by. 

faces blur 

and voices mellow, 

like so many bubbles

fizzling away.

I'll press this 

day-old soda 

to my stubborn lips, 

leaving a swallow

if only to spite you.

twenty minutes by, 

with my 

blood sugar spiking, 

I line dance 

with the curb, 

hands full 

and brow tight.

your iced coffee, 

caramel foam no ice, 

bleeds through 

the papery napkin, 

licking my hand.

my green tea 

in the other, 

gone bitter 

because I realized

too late

to mix the honey

before drinking--

lapped up 

all that sweetness 

before learning

to miss its taste.

twenty-five minutes, 

perhaps I should go home--

put on a show,

drink your coffee too. 

have more self-respect

and ghost you for good, 

because 

all those lost minutes--

now I'm through. 

or maybe you've died, 

then I should definitely 

have your coffee--

surely the buzz of caffeine 

will keep my eyes open 

for your eulogy. 

after, I'll steal the food 

from the buffet, 

glare at your tombstone

because I deserve

nice things too, and--

oh, there you are, 

with your hair blown 

sideways--

undone shoelaces, 

doe-eyed with confusion.

your lips are moving,

I don't want to hear it,

and yet--

wait, what are you 

saying? 

I read the text wrong? 

we agreed to meet at 

three, no?

no? 

damn.