At 3am. The messages.
Something about coffee.
A while later,
a disclaimer. Coffee
means coffee.
What did he want?
Probably nothing.
Probably he types his message
looking at my Facebook with his cock in his hand
then after he shoots,
retracts.
To hell with that.
But coffee?
Three or four dollars a cup.
Much cheaper than loneliness.
You see it everywhere.
I told him Fridays were good.
Whatever
he’s doing now
do you think he’s
having good coffee?
First published in Creatrix 38, September 2017