היום שלושה ועשרים ימים שהם שלושה שבועות ושני ימים בעומר

On the periphery of thoughts and plans

a mess of dreams lies waiting.

Coffee has become a taste of attachment

attachment to the knowing of belonging.

It tastes like all the books I’ve ever read

and hope to read.

If it’s not too sugary

bibliographies may be drawn from displaced memories.

My lover asked me last week

Why are you not following your heart?

We walk so briskly down these streets

and never notice how old everything is.

We kiss for warmth and energy

electricity

Not love.

She hurts too much, I tell him.