to dine for

to dine for


                                                              and for some reason the fact that we’re talking on a napkin
                                                              suddenly makes it
                                                              that much more poetic
                                                                           as folds divide
                                                                                               everything we say in two
                                             and the ink we’re talking in
                                             and the graphite we’re thinking in
         and the watercolors in which we believe
          is
         bleeding through
         every
         layer of our recycled selves
            .but then as i unfold
                       your whispers
        [apart(yes i know)] from each other
 to make this is— this sheet
             that spits
             every word we argue
   onto the counter top,
       like the tears of coffee through the filter
                   just like that, just like that, you’re saying everything
     over again
     from a thousand
    different
    directions.  calling it symmetry like a coffee filter
    snowflake
    as one-of-a-kind
as every grain of salt in every grain of sea,
but you’re sneaking under,
       [one layer at a time]
                        trying to say something yesterday,
hiding in your brackets
and behind the crescent of your
         paren(thesis)
              to make everything
    i know now
              an elaboration..
              they’re all starting their days the wrong
              way
              and still you still keep still
                         ,talking
             with the
             radio.