Cary Briel

“Coffee?” She asks
innocently, with tongue in cheek
I have to believe.
There’s never been a “No.” Never an
“I’ll pass.”

As I glimpse through the blinds,
Laura leaves, independently.
Scrutinizing is pointless, anymore.
The illusion of control
has passed.

I write in a dark room
to pass another day,
or simply to let it pass by me.
Or perhaps we alternate our wins. I’ll take
Wednesday and Friday.