espresso

I don’t understand

where the water goes, you said

as you interrogated

the waste pipe plumbing

to the sink at music class.

Your three year old stature

convenient for inspection.

A quizzical look on your face

a mirror of images

in the emotions book

we had read and practised

years before:

happy, sad, confused…

And my heart exploded

with an electric shock

of love

which coursed through me.

An espresso shot

To a decaf soya latte self.

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