I met my lover for lunch down the street.

My lover, who taught me how to exist

In the twist of this hiss, this fizz and sleet

Who brought me this bliss, who's Anger, I kissed.

We sat outside on two summer-hot seats

Recounting first day, first lips awkward lisp

Until I'm telling tilling of tiled heats

I mean hearts. Tilling away loveless.

I whisper final, and then there proceeds

Standing, feet landing, leaving, stepping in

spilt split

              -pea soup on the sun bleached concrete.

My lover is gone, there's something I've missed.

I call the waiter and ask for a check.

He looks,"I've looked." He gestures nothing left.