Lattes in Limbo

Facing me:

One son, torpid, lounges

swum fluent in books, scrawl fresh brewed

lost in the flurry and hiss.

Another, dad, hassled ducks and bobs

surfacing sporadically

from the moment.

Tween, angular, flirts under

brows sculpted badly

caressing a full cup.

Busybody noses

poking space personal

with eyes vermin.

Chucking duckling

sustenance launched;

dad will sort it.

Mutton dressed as mutton

full barrell laughs

caught in the juncture.

Boat shoes.

Highbrow, sockless.

Misremembers irony.

Past and future echoes of each other,

we resound in

the room waiting,

fuelling up and sustained on dregs of choice.

Darkness imbibing

to shoo away the shadows.

The lean skulled future perches hawklike

latte sipping,

chess playing;

hooded.