cafetiere

i lost my friends
at the year's end.
spent the first day of the year
friendless and cackling
on my neighbourhood's floor.
drunk and reckless,
feverish and poor.

but i love the mystery
of the coffee bar.
strangers watching intently.
or from afar.
i only make coffee for strangers,
never for you
sleep-drawn and sketchy
in the morning
from my borrowed cafetiere.
playing with your spiderweb hair.

i love that i am
flirted with every day that i work.
men calling me 'darling'
or their 'loves'.
i challenge anybody to love me.
look past
all the insecurity.
try to love
whatever they see in me.

the one i love
is a sullen and selfish creature.
so i don't even try to reach her.