They Walk Away

Away, away, down the hall they go,
his thick neck, her shiny bare
legs, to fetch a cup of coffee.
The sun hits their skin, they walk,
glowing, he holds
the door, she fiddles with her
change purse, he reaches
over her shoulder to get
a lid, almost touching her
cheek, almost. Barely missing her
cheek, he reaches, she feels the
breeze of his tweeded arm,
she smells the coffee, they walk
back into sunlight, her skirt is flying,
he smells of cologne, they
laugh, she in her bright red skirt and his
necktie rippling like a crimson
flag, he is revealing
last night's dream, my god,
he's throwing his head back,
she's laughing, she's wrinkling
her brow, he gestures toward
the leafless trees, they walk in
sunlight, her legs bare, in their hands:
coffee, the coffee: hot, the
air: crisp, the sky: blue, and back
at the office, she smells his
cologne, her mouth waters,
his eyes glisten; he's
delighted; he's thirsty; the coffee's
hot, steaming, hazelnut.

-Johannah Racz