seconds

a draft of air, heated

drifting up into the 

corner of the kitchen 

where the little bugs roam

their cylindrical bodies 

fit tightly into the wedge 

between wall and ceiling

fruit fly on the cabinet door,

then the wall, then the countertop

eyeing the avocados and kiwis

ripening in the bowl below

old coffee in the pot as the

stove timer keeps blaring;

we’re oblivious to the kitchen 

lost in the bedroom

lost in each other

making love for the second time

(fravery.tumblr.com)