[PancakeBrah]

"You're always mine to keep when you're gone."

i hear her piano in my pocket of coins. as my fingertips trace,
and fiddle, in the pews. studying each, at such a lingering pace.
ten years, is ten years. they've given me tokens for you,
each a gradual step. there's ever more, even after (ever after) i'd tired of this emotive milieu.
still, i stayed for these offings.
through the driest of donuts, the stalest of coffees,
and the cigarette breaks (most prefer a pack of lies, with a maelstrom of coughing).
tonight was mostly the same, as ever. the repeated, lame endeavors;
'one too many long islands.' etc. the first speaker stood plaintively,
not even old enough to hold the whiskey sours you used to make for me.
i hit on her during a break. i thought our eyes had exchanged
she left abruptly,
either i've lost it, she's gay, or the rules since the nineties have changed.
i don't know. nor do i care, really. it was only a test run, that.
a test. to shake off the rust, for when my best comes back, for romantic rejoinder.
it gave me a smile. the thought gave me a buzz. i danced in the foyer.

You brought me my drink, as I took a sip of yours.
You laughed, and I embraced every syllable as if each was course.
Naked on the black leather, we attempted at etudes

i only enjoy the porn when i pretend that it's you.
another monday night. after i'm done, there's nothing left to do.
ten years, is ten years. i've already changed. The notice is striking,
others will tell you. struck from me, the notion of fighting,
verbal or otherwise. Another life, a sober so knuckle white,
so distant. so distant from those nothing fights.
i'm an arranging of sobriety coins, already arranged.
i've already cleaned. it's so dry without you, and I've readied for rain.

She played a steady refrain.