Zombie Frappe

Only because it’s
A shell of what
It could be

Soulless, vapid,



A rare sight
In the cloud’s hazy light
Which scatters down
The mountainside

Obscuring its tallest peaks
And making the base
Seem impossibly steep

Glittering wet
Blackberry vines
On the side
Of the freeway

Grey all around
Rain like stars

We could be
Driving on a
Nebula highway

With no point
Of reference
But the road
And the trees

Sitting passenger
Java chip frap with
A shot of peppermint
In my hands

North Bend

North Bend

I woke up groggy,
Blearily blinking
And invoking stretches
That evoked the kind
Of pleasant soreness
Which comes with
A long night of
Deep and dreamy sleep.

In a baggy sweater
And thick tracksuit pants
I rose from the couch,
Blinking at the actually
Dim light from overcast
Clouds visible from
Bay windows.

You had already
Been awake for a while,
And left a cup of
My favorite coffee
On the kitchen counter.

I sat on the barstool,
Curling my arms against
My chest to keep warm.

But could never make more

Than your kiss that morning.