Recurring Customer

teeth of antique

armor

he’s picked up from a battlefield

of daily distractions.

Shrapnel.

Soiled.

air of death

bursts

from his breath

ghosts

of himself.

-COFFEE. WHITE. LARGE.

brown fleece. Same as yesterday. Same

as yesterdays yesterday. Little turgid

rotting diamonds pattern and scatter. stained.

I can imagine him masturbating

on stray kittens

matting their fur

in a cluster

cemented. brawling.

He’s that type of man. They exist.

Their owners stick to the pelt.

He likes that.

-I WANTED A LATTE.

Glistening icy stain

on his front. Maybe he sleeps with iced

buns.

Pervert.

I pass him his drink.

He passes me the money.

I take it

and it sticks

to

my

palm.