Twenty years ago, I should have had a conversation like this with an old friend. It's too late now, but here it is.
Water Rings
His fingers
played with the handle of his mug
working on it
as if he could somehow
change the shape of the clay
as he spoke
It’s like I’m cold
and can’t get warm again
no matter what I do
Done, I
pushed my mug gently away
blurring the ring of water
distilled around its base
to a wet trail across the table top
and said
I wish I could
But I won’t make you warm
no matter what I do.
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