inviolable

Life at sometime after
Two a.m. is
more something about
coffee and
cigarettes
and a presumption of
innocence long before
we start the love making with
our eyes.

Gloria,  the waitress who was
minutes from missing this altogether
may well have seen stranger sights than you and I;
most likely thought we’d drank our
dinner
drunk as we were on the company,
that glance we exchange that
rumbles and quakes and probably
parts a sea or two when needed.

There’s something so organic about
conversation and
sharing space
and this genuineness you haven’t felt
since your mother held you right after
First Breath.

Sometimes,  if you’re lucky,
life spits you out like a double entendre
while somewhere in the kitchen
Joe is brewing the
remnants of what
memories we will cling to
tomorrow.
And coffee.

For now it will have to suffice
but I can’t stress enough
that even as Gloria comes to the
end of her night,
ours is just beginning,  and even so
she is going home with
a little more hope;
reinforced that true love
might actually be tangible;
and crazy,
very possibly,
a virtue.