if you give a professor fifteen minutes, he only assumed to give a beautiful stranger as long as it takes

you ordered your coffee,

a second guessing,

pure told black,

through a chemex,

and i watched you,

watching minutes,

letting your lips steep

in steam,

before sipping, and

releasing it back out

your murmuring

intentions,

like rain clouds

over summer hu -

midity swallowed

the last dregs, and

folded your book,

the final

shadows

of self-conscious,

cast off like wrinkles

on your,

straightened pant leg

as you stood.

finding a stoop outside the shop

you indicated undecided on

leaving,

but rather stared patience

into the dying cicada,

upturned near your shoe lace,

when a voice down the alley,

called "please,

don't be angry."

"nunca,"

you responded,

but quietly,

from your stomach,

staying only

to polite the wrong.

i suppose you did have limits after all,

and long past chatter,

you said you'd walk

as far as the bus stop,

as she attempted to otherwise

convince her(apologetic

)self,

she didn't have reason, to

cover her mouth

with both hands.

i imagined you,

saying not to call

from the lonely

cup, of

now filled,

fresh resolve;

that perhaps she might

still,

still something,

that she might.

you backed passed

near my staring,

stretched out hand,

saying

with words

'i'd love to buy you coffee'

but extending,

with reality and newness,

condolence.

"thanks but,"

(inhale),

"i already had one."

'wait.'

my curiosity

turned your shirt sleeve.

"who was she?

sorry,

what just happened?"

(second inhale)

"if you give a professor fifteen minutes,

i only assumed to give a beautiful stranger as long as it takes.

some days they turn up,

most days it doesn't seem to change anything either way."

you smiled and made your exit.