I’m from a part of London full of coffee shops

coffee culture like Paris or Amsterdam

like shacks in Jamaica:

men huddle drinking, playing.

Between masculinity, there they were:

young women, later baby.

Moving

it became ritual to meet him for coffee. Our lunch break once a week.

I meet him now for coffee, with or without coffee

on video in the middle of the day

not one week passes without his face, his haircut, his laugh.

What did it used to be like –

two arms in physical space reaching out

sitting squinting against the sun perched on stone.

Much love Txx