7-11 mornings spent drinking manufactured

Hypersweet 7-11 coffee

Overlooking the hustle and bustle

Of the street, smoke, pollution creating

A horribly beautiful forest of grey clouds

Province reminiscent of the city

Not a sight too pretty

Removing provincial essence

But all nullified by fetching doll like face of fair tan porcelain

Permanently arched eyebrows, lips

Pursed in eternal kissing of the putrid air

Hassled morning instantly snaps to a memory more vivid than a picture, detail more striking than a portrait.

Forever emblazoned in my mind

Lost in a flurry of fantasy, a swirl of imagination and stolen glances, eyes never meeting.

Candour inhibited by starstruck stupor

Reality gets back at me when she arises to leave

And friends find me

No matter, if parting is our destiny, if we must be dissevered by friends’ beckoning

Her comely face stays in my brain, forever replayed

Crossing the street and inhaling putrid engine waste

Being late

Hiding away from parade

Drinking coffee that’s stale

All is worth it

As I’ve been given the chance to see your pretty face



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