Peace fingers

Peace fingers

Cognac leather seats and

Latin-inspired art, 

A window that overlooks the patio.

An implausible, life-sized, plastic horse,

An aged space,

A few Friday glasses of wine. 

Her Saturday mornings are spent with me again.

She draws me,

And I write with a purple muji pen.

Pretentious? 

My favorite excuse to see her face.

I think she reaps inspiration

From me 

Or those cognac leather seats.

She’s a simple-stoned creative

And 

I’m just writing about last night.

This morning I drag over an ashtray

And this patio is stone-cold 

So I put my hand over her coffee

To trap what I can’t hold.

We just pass time here 

But I could die here 

satisfied

Though, I’m not sure she’s seen enough. 

And with my left hand peace fingers out

I request a Marlboro red

And she unveils her iron lighter.