Sit pretty over coffee or
last night's stale bread with
you, the slightly browned
apple (core) of my eye.
If I am not your sanguinary
cup of tea these days
I apologize;
if I look like a jailbird
in stripes.

Suddenly you seem worried
it's a flightless beast.

Yes, we liked this little place
with rotten drinks,
neither cafe nor dirty booth
at the corner of street A and
avenue B. It reminds me that
we liked all and loved nothing
which is wrong, you see:
it's a sorry leg to start on.
You figured you were hopeless
and I figured I was vile.

Took us long enough,
to figure it for a lost cause.

When you want someone to hold
I guess you don't look at the stains.
I spent so long pushing for space
I guess you took my hands
for kisses. That's sweet but
part of the problem--
All your sugar made my teeth
ache
for something real.

So you with your cake
go on ahead and I, my
red meat we'll stay behind.
I was never a frosting
kind of girl on the best of days.

AKL 2005