The Cafe Poem by L.B. Temuco

He is drawn to her as she falls in from the street
Her eyes great bowls of morning dreams
Left over rivers from the night
Something moans as she walks towards him
There is both comfort and uncertainty between them
He watches the electraglide blue of her
as she paces backwards and forwards.
She is speaking on her mobile
feeding on every word.
Her hair is tied back, wanting to break free
to explode in dark venous passion
the leather shoulder bag she wears
bulges with careless paraphernalia
it beats like a grey wing against her chest
Her eyes play games with his thoughts
a contradiction between
what she is doing and what she is meaning.
Her movements are luminous
something deep and tantric flowers
in hidden cavities
They are children on the moon
He feels the warm moistness of her
The aura of a single light
The divine expression of her being
She commands him.
He feels his organs floating away
severed from their moorings.
He remembers sea cucumbers, the evisceration of all sensuality
the dry fingers of salt they become
He feels, on the crimson lake of her lips
The thorns of awakening
the rupturing of old emotions.
The waitress asks if they are together.
We are close but lead separate and cluttered lives.
They smile nervously at each other
wondering why they feel better
about telling this to a stranger
They breathe together