morning coffee

Again, I am trapped inside the four corners
Of the kitchen window, and
I watch the young lovers
Say goodbye in the vacant street
Were apartments are married to the sky.

Only the birds know our secrets.
They speak about us amongst themselves.
And the young man leaves too soon
Into the empty space between them.

I sip my coffee. Hot, envious, and afraid.
I am a thief of moments.
I lean over the sink to watch the last of her
Slip into the yellow morning and
I can hear the creak in the floorboards
Just outside.

I peer through the tiny lens,
A fishbowl, stuck like a gun shoot in the
Middle of the old door.
Maybe she will love me.

In the strained moisture of my eye, I see
the blurred image of her ascend the stairs.
Focus.
Heat and light blur around her shoulders.
Focus.
Love stands before me.
Focus.
It waits outside.
Focus.
It creates a tight fist.
Focus.
It knock