when coffee comes at last call
the rain still clings to my leg,
like a memory, like i wish a you would
only rarely did you rain on me
never the down pour
never the deaths I wanted
always a step away,
arms away
pushing me further back
the coffee taste like mud
so far from what I wanted
sex with you was never great
John Kipling Lewis
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/last-call-3/
