No need for the gas heater,
I suppose,
Next to our feet.
Only for atmosphere
As we quietly sip our coffee
Across from one another
Searching for nothing to say,
As we're already saying too much.
I'm glad you can't hear my thoughts
amidst the clamour of our awkward jabber.
You can hardly deal with your own,I know.
That's why you fear me
The feminine arm of empathy
longing to assuage the poet
with her tender strokes.
You chide my knowing,
my understanding,
preferring to keep me at arm's length,
across the table,
sitting here,
quietly sipping our coffee
amidst our empty words.
