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.