The Smell of Coffee

It is the rim of the
cup, white porcelain,
rounded smooth where
lips touch, where I can
see, but not really see
steam and aroma floating
up and over, falling
across right the moment
the idea of sitting next
to you, the smell of coffee
like jungle like steamy
dense and green
mountains, is the smell
that awakens me, that I
think when I think of
you…the smell of coffee
once known once forgotten
once forgiven for being
elusive binding daring
smiling, the smell of
coffee drifts along with
me from this place, this
seat, this moment…to
you…and rounded white
porcelain rises and falls
in a rhythm a heart beat
a pulse of knowing the
moment is now is you is
me sitting across the smell
of coffee

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