The Thief

jennifer is different
in that she swirls her coffee
in a slow figure eight,
as if trying to find some

meaning in the mahogany
ocean residing in her cup.
mark rushes through the doors
as a breath of winter

follows, and she gets
up to meet him. she places
her hands on his face and
gazes longingly into his eyes

as though they could
disappear at any moment.
there is a sort of truth
to the way she holds him,

and he draws her
closer and brings his finger to
her cheek as if to say that
this moment is theirs forever.

i watch as their shadows
pour into each other
until i stand and say,
this is a hold up.