I have a heart in my caffe latte
and I won’t sprinkle cinammon

or moka to savour the moment.

Picked the rasberry swirl as a metaphor

for my life. No one here knows who

I am and seriously though

I am no one they even care to meet.

And the gentleman across staring at my boobs

is enjoying the view.

I am in town of Mont Royal for two more days, and just when the barrista got to know my name, I have to run.

These studies prove that Montreal is so unique

and dying. I told my real estate agent

a few things and she quotes me now.

She is inviting me into her life.

I am the only one who

knows her photocopying code at the office.

I would have been a great secretary with my Virgo skills. She loves me too much because I showed her my scars. 

I had everything to lose

and I did it anyway. I could negotiate 

like a poet, and I will stay on the phone for forty-five minutes

discussing the realization

of my dream and her commission.

Bargain while my family sleeps

pace my balcony

and cry in secret

holding it all together

in stitches.

I am sitting here

observing time and people

wishing you would

walk through the sun

like a God

but the only thing

that time proves

is that you can’t go back.

6 thoughts on “Rasberry Swirl

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