Coffee, perhaps?

Wrapping your fingers

around a warm mug

is a comforting gesture,

I like to think.

It's an old familiar feeling

as they say.

It is perhaps as old

as a story

a feeling

an idea

shared
across a table 

built for two. 

But I don't drink

coffee anymore.

And he says he doesn't

drink at all.

All I can say is

he must be parched

in this record heat.