I can't have
what I want
most of the time
and don't
want what I
have, she tells
you, sitting outside
the coffee shop
as the weather
changes from
summer, briskly
into fall.
the leaves rattle
across
the pavement
as we sip our
coffee.
she narrows her
eyes and takes a
sip of her drink.
foam is on her
pursed lips. I wish,
she says,
that I had gotten
the pumpkin
spice
and not this.
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