Coffee and Blue Jays

Coffee and Blue Jays

By Erin L George

 

He pecks, kisses, brushes, blows, caresses

to wake us

at the window.

 

If we lay here long enough, will the bed wake up,

sheets dripping round its ankles

to make us coffee and hand us the classifieds

pre-circled so we don’t have to decide

how low?

 

You, the trash man, coming home with mustard on your lips

and the taste of dirty paper towels

gritty in your kiss,

resentment.

 

Me, the maid, wiping window sills with my degrees

and the frostbite of student loans

weighing strong on me,

fear.

 

You offer a smile so tight it brings a real one to my lips.

The tears that drop are happy ones

that you’d try so hard to tell me you’re okay -

“ We’re  okay” -

and will find a way. “We always do!”

 

Blind faith. (Like our love).

 

Blue bird waits at the window sill,

“Where’s the grub?”

He does not know

last year’s seeds are a joke we should have planted

in a market that wouldn’t have lasted anyway.

He’s fatter for it and chirping.

 

If we daydream long enough will they see

the red of our lips, hungry

like our bloodshot eyes?  (The pink of our gums

throbbing for a shot of hope and the promise they made

generations ago).

 

I laugh at their greed and hold my lips in a line

as they tell me how hard it is

to be squished in between

their colonials on Lego Lane

where it’s only a matter of picking colors.

 

Assembly line entitlement. (Free).

 

If they lie to themselves enough, will they believe?

I see their scarlet veins

and wonder if they ever thought of cutting them

free into water, Calgon-scented vanity

as the coffee perks and I reach to brush your strains away.

“We will be okay”

 

…but the bed sheets are lame ,

the paper’s at the end of the drive,

and today’s another day!

 

Don’t believe their promises. (Lies).

 

I scour, search, hunt, rifle, comb

for coupons

for seed.