I sit at this tiny table <br />and wait <br />as I have before <br />for you to make <br />excuses to get <br />away; <br />to steal the tiny time <br />you have with me. <br /> <br />I know I should go, <br />break away <br />and leave <br />but I don't. <br /> <br />I sip my coffee <br />swirling in the cup <br />mixing my milk <br />and your strong brew. <br /> <br />Perhaps one day <br />there will be a me and you <br />but today-right now <br />there is only me. <br /> <br />I feel you at my side <br />suddenly <br />your face <br />comes over me <br />and once again <br />there is the peace <br />you offer <br />each time we meet. <br /> <br />That is the drug <br />which overpowers <br />each time <br />I <br />the other woman; <br />and we <br />reach across <br />the tiny table <br />re-joined <br />in tiny time <br />the tiny space <br />we allow ourselves <br />to enjoy <br /> <br />rarely, <br />this other me <br />that other you.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-other-7/
