Coffee Ballad #3

taxicabs wandering lost and yellow
soul-searching on a sunday morning
under blue curtain rain
and I remember the night
we were wild until 5 a.m.

over coffee you said,
"she's just like you —
plays piano, writes poetry, drinks tea."

so with your wily smile
my existence is reduced
to three simplicities
three loves lost
in the froth
of the cappuccino.

I should've asked, "Which tea?"

02 November 2003, Sunday, 11:04 PM

Alter ego of dandruff