Clear cups stacked at the edge of the counter
are untouched, though caressed by every gaze.
Interlocking within an inch of copulation,
they reflect waves of I'll do anything for you
from the unseen speakers.
While dehydration consumes their purpose,
the counter is cleared. The cups remain,
turned over as dust settles
on their surface.
Posted by dmmagic on April 28, 2008
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