one more day

I will Google Truman Capote when I get home

A man my age wearing thick black glasses
is sitting opposite me on the bus reading In Cold Blood.
His knee is moving in time with the buzz coming
from his headphones and I stare at his face for six seconds.
He looks at me. I look at him.
We look at each other.
I think: coffeekissingsexlovemarriagebabiesdeath.
I stare at my feet until it is time
to get off the bus.


Do something, you idiot

I will spontaneously lunge across this table
to push my lips against yours
and probably pull a muscle.