Coffee Shots

There’s pink and orange

Stripped across our toes

And eyes lined with feline.

The room smells

Of coffee shots

And packaged noodles.

We’re in black shorts

And neon tops,

With buns and braids

That could get us

Into a five star

By the beach.

We’ve pulled the mattress 

Off the cots

Onto the floor,

Somewhere where

The polkas on yours

Merge with the stripes on mine.

And I swear,

In the quarter past three,

We giggled like girls

With not a care in the world

But 

With the world at our feet.

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