pour over

we were breaking up when
i started to get into coffee brewing methods.
the keurig had died. i thought maybe
we could be free. i tried
the french press & i tried the moka pot.
i ultimately settled on the pour-over
because the internet god told me
it was the strongest. god i loved 
how bitter i could make it. i was always awake
even when i was asleep. i once sat up to see i was
without any hands & i wept & you were
not there at all. 
we shared a room & i pictured
cutting everything in half. the bed
& the window & the desk which was mine
& became yours. i have never
been good at uncoupling. i draw things out.
try to make it work. try to make it work.
which is less about love & more about
bills & apartments & shoes by the door.
on my worst days i would stand & 
let the hot water's steam fog my glasses.
pretend  i was driving a car into a lake.
the smell of coffee blooming. the sound
of an ambient siren. police or ambulance?
i ask myself the same question. when we first came 
to the apartment we had no curtains. 
the light at everything. you watched me
make coffee once. you asked,
"doesn't that take longer?" i wanted to say,
"i need more time." ending do not 
wait for us. instead i explained,
"it's my favorite way to make it."