She cradled the coffee cup

her eyes on the door

each entrant receiving an expectant glance,

but each time

it was not the one;

her glance then

did a sad swan dive

into the swirling mist

above the coffee cup--

she hoping to see a future there

in its quivering eddies

which would foretell

he would come--

he would come.

She shifted her weight

to one side then the other

lifting her hand

to signal

for another cup to come

to sit beside the faulty one

which had erred;

he'd be there she thought

in a minute or two.

But he wasn't.

A new cup would correct that fault;

new fumes would swirl

but told a different tale;

of one where he would rush through the door

talking of late planes, cab fares

lost cell phones, eager anticipations

breathless sorrys, apologies and regrets

all foretold there on the white linen table top

on which was arrayed two dead mugs

of now cold and stale Colombian roast,

their porcelain profiles lined up

while the third

told its tale in the lengthening night;

she looking up to encounter my eyes

looking upon her tabled renderings

she quicklythen looked away

and  back again

wondering I think,

if I was his messenger;

had news of him

who should be in the Lazarus seat

opposite her

surely to rise from the dead;

ever expected

but never arrived.

I take my coffee cup emissary

lift it in my palm

my hesitancy overcome

and glided into the Lazarus perch

cup to my lips

as was hers;

all silence here--

no words needed--

a communion here;

gentle healing

as my cup

came down to the table top

allowing a hesitant hand

to reach out

while her eyes

grew large

peering into the reflected glare

of the night window

seeing him descend

from a taxi-cab

planting a gentle kiss

upon she who smiled

falling back into the dark

sitting erect

as we both watched

her recede--

a sideways smile

on her face--

and he,

he came to the door

only then to realize

that the loving scene

he thought unseen

was in fact observed

by two

one of whom he knew

and one he did not.

His face wrenched, perplexed;

sin and retribution

joined now at the hip;

a bullet shot bounces back

once shot

and shooter then realizes

he will die

and apologize

simultaneously.

All  frozen now;

he standing stock still

recognizing by eyewitness he is lost

turns on his heel

in full retreat

while we two

breathe for the first time

our eyes

glide

to lock again

as we both rise simultaneously

to walk out

into the now hopeful dark.