Inhale coffee.
A click of recognition,
a sigh in my throat.

He sat at the kitchen table
drinking the morning,
his box of Marlboros.
He looked out the window
at me,
riding his horse, safe behind the glass where
emotions can’t be shattered.

The leather saddle
creaked and crunched
as I fell in rhythm
into it.
The silky mane and soft coat
Shivered in delight
while he smoked his breakfast—
hot, thick spoonfuls of habit.

His calloused hands, rough,
like hay,
to my smile.

I swallow the memory
in slow sips,
while my cup
sits steaming.