There you dance on the other side of an ocean,
a dance I can’t understand...
I gave you
these notes, (a choreography)
but your steps are all different now,
and with your back to me,
you spin away.
There’s a plum in the pocket of my black wool coat
and when my hand dives in for warmth
it tempts me with its promised sweetness.
I know that when I finally bite,
The juice will run red down my chin
and stain my t-shirt so I wait--
anticipate a little longer.