Affogato

To pour the whole shot

In one shot

Without spilling a drop

Was always a skill of yours

At first the globe floats in defiance

Refusing to succumb

But already revealing canyons

Flooded with rivers of black-brown

Soon the stirring

Melts as it mixes

The ice and heat

Embracing each other

Between forgetting

And bittersweet fantasy

I taste long gone

Weekends

Now all is left

Is a line of beige

On clear glass

And an aftertaste

Of smoke and caramel

(September 2012)