Saturday Morning with her sunday shoes
After the cough,
Sun light falling
Down from the
Morning rise on
The coffeehouse
Wooden floors -
Through the wide
Open door with
People walking in
With money to buy.
I can tell her beauty
Behind the counter
Is contagious to the
Type of blood my
Veins run with ...
She eats pumpkin
Ice cream. Wants me
Addicted - her telepathy
Is infectious and wants
Me addicted to her world
It's why she's contagious.
But I over hear her tell
Her story of how it's only
Just a cold, just a cough.
Her black eyes beaming
With thoughts of capture.