I want to stand in front of
the cream + sugar bar
at the café
as long as I want,
stirring and staring —
watching the swirling liquid
dance however it wants to —
as if me standing, stirring,
and staring
was my own dance.
The man behind me
clears his throat and I remember
that not everyone wants to dance
with their coffee
in a café.
So I smile and slide left
and keep stirring.