I’m drinking espresso, in my apartment
sending back, all the gifts
fate tries to give me.
“No. I don’t want that job.”
“No. I don’t want that woman.”
They say that God tries to save a Man
in a dozen practical ways
but he’s still waiting on the miracle.
is that the rotten fruit
to be picked-up
off the ground.
The good berries are out of reach
where nobody can get them, glistening in the sun, full of juice.
After a while, we don’t look up, anymore.
That special friend, rarely walks by
That real opportunity, is one in a thousand
I visit a barista
and her forehead is delicate
her smile, smooth.
“Do you want decaf espresso, non-fat milk, and ice?” She asked me, after I ordered.
“I don’t know, but as long as it’s mixed together.”
I enjoyed, looking into her eyes. I admired her head covering.
She was a Muslim, and I thought about changing my religion.
“That girl liked talking to you,” my mother said.
Later, I went to the bookstore, and read a book on Hitler and the Occult.
It said, your Will is like Seduction, working on another person.
were doing things to each other
I broke contact
I thought about buying that book, but I didn’t want to open-up a door to demons.
I have enough of my own.
What if I just kept looking into her eyes?
I would drown.
Then, I went to the second-hand store
and they were selling a piano
for 20 dollars.
“We could put it outside?” I asked my mother.
“No. The last piano I got rid of cost me 100 dollars to dump.”
Reality ruins romance, I thought.