street talk on a hard bench

We’re sitting, praying at the pews to get out of the cold

On our knees

Hands clasped tightly around that pearl necklace

Mother may I? He asks sheepishly

Of course you may, you get everything you want

When you’re ready to pray

He wraps his arms around her

She holds him tightly against her chest

He hears her heart beating

That calm rhythm always soothing

He glances over at the girl in the corner

Startled

Almost giving up the ghost

When I’m

Still

Filling my cup

With the dark roast

Swirling cream to mix galaxies

You smile when I tell you it’s delicious

&

I tell you it’s delicious, every time I smile

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