3:00 A.M.

at the Belmont Diner,

I watch the cream swirl as it blends,

      joins,

into the coffee.

I take a bite of buttered toast with raspberry jam spread onto it, 

and the clinking my spoon makes against the mug

reminds of your sleeping figure

     which later, like a thief, in the dead of night,

I might wonder as I slide alongside your warmth,

whence I became so fortunate

as to have coveted your affections

and found the door unlocked.