Sharp edges dulled as the sky opened up and poured forth an ocean.

Steel and glass turned hazy with

the smell of hot, wet black-top,

decomposing garbage,

and exhaust fumes.

A corner coffee-shop,

that brought me to thoughts of the parallels and perpendiculars,

of life “on the grid”

and all those one-way streets.

Burnt coffee drowned in sugar.

Cardboard cups with cute sayings,

and I cant help but wonder who got paid for the pretty font

displayed all around the world.

You smell like the rain as you brush wet hair out of your eyes, cursing,

and I can only smile and look away.

To the lightning reflecting off the endless glass towers,

to the old man who will soon be hurried off the doorstep into the rain.

I can read it in his eyes.

You slide a cup across the table toward me, and my hands hover around it,

wanting just the taste of warmth, the barest of sensation,

not the smooth texture. So easily broken. Destined for another landfill.

I look up at you through my eyelashes and a broken smile,

wishing today had anything to do with you.

You smile that unforgettable smile and I look away again, to the drops sliding down the glass, to the condensation beginning to form on the windows.

It is so cold inside.

The ice blender begins to roar,

The door opens and closes, letting in the smell of the wet city,

The cold air hisses through the vents.

You take a sip from the cup that gives me no clue,

as to what you would taste like.

Right now.