The first time we have coffee after psychology class, you laugh as I pour too much sugar in my over-sized mug, and it’s refreshing to see the humor behind small cravings.The second time we met, I learn you take your coffee black and the real reason you are drawn to psychology as you speak of that dark day your sister jumped off the bridge as a girl. The third time we met on Monday, I told you about my father and how he left us when I was a boy. And the way I foolishly search for him in a crowd as if a reunion with him, the father of my emptiness would make a damn difference now.
The next week, I shaved and trimmed my hair, and my skin’s got some color. It’s all those lonely hours you see, between classes, sitting under the scorching sun watching the waves crash and spill, crash and spill over the rocks.
On the fourteenth day, I am thinking of you-you-you, how I want us to forget the coffee and drink cold beer in a pub under the low lights, down the street. I want to drink beer with you, rum and vodka, all of it, as my fingers brush against your neck, while my wife does her rotations at the hospital.
See, it’s her job to save people.
The next week, I shaved and trimmed my hair, and my skin’s got some color. It’s all those lonely hours you see, between classes, sitting under the scorching sun watching the waves crash and spill, crash and spill over the rocks.
On the fourteenth day, I am thinking of you-you-you, how I want us to forget the coffee and drink cold beer in a pub under the low lights, down the street. I want to drink beer with you, rum and vodka, all of it, as my fingers brush against your neck, while my wife does her rotations at the hospital.
See, it’s her job to save people.
