Two Ants Walk Into A Coffee Shop

They minded their conversation, The ants that came marching in. Extra sugar. A little less cream. The foam from their latte circled their mouths, Disfigured steam still rising from their small cups. A light comfort found after an hard days work. Shuffling dirt from one hill to the next. The politics of aching knees in search for a place to rest. They use to come here often. Him and her. Her eyes were like caffeine, Swirling around the cup. Stained styrofoam long discarded in memory. In reality. A neutral feeling strikes, The cream doesn't taste the same since she left. The latte doesn't taste the same since she left. Just an empty cup, reminiscent Of her essence