waldo’s empty cup of coffee

> where’d it go?
where’s my waldo? where’s her hand, her thumb,
her eyes numb-
from watching mine, where’s the watch-
on her right hand that tells us our time-
is done?
>

> excuse me sir, but have you seen my lover-almost?
she’s gone missing. she has beautiful black eyes,
and finicky hair that gets in the way.
she gets goosebumps if you hold her right, and a tight-
clench when she loves you a little.
>

> she left me a note, of course; she’s no monster, now.
she said she’d be back, and i’m waiting at the bus stop.
it’s cold, and it’s raining, but the umbrella’s pointless, don’t you see?
the umbrella’s pointless, because she isn’t smiling under the canopy.
>

> she’s probably nestled into a corner, happy with her own cold hands and a book,
and maybe a coffee. it’s always a coffee at this time in the morning,
and then an apple for lunch if she’s feeling lucky, maybe.
nothing for dinner, though: the mirror’s watching.
>

> my lover’s not dead, but my heart’s buried by the river.
she’ll dig it up when she’s back, and take it home with her.
>