Over a Kopi

brewed from memory.

I met you over a cup of kopi. Rather, two kopis, my lobang of initiative to lure you closer into the cozy ambience of table talk. Sips of brown murk, shale burning our tongues. I coaxed your history out of your initial reluctance to lay out your life like a map, like kaya. Later, you lay a hand on my lap – we molded our lives into one thick toast. Then long beach walks, the sun blazing your scrawny skin a tanned brown. I licked your hand the color of biscuits. Fingers – your salt and shingle filled my mouth; the evening sun pooled around your thighs. Then, I failed to fill you with the thrust of my promises for tomorrow. Seagulls forgot the special names we gave each of them but seagulls. Kopi tasted of distant surfs from different seasides. What resides is the murk in cups, sentiments the sand has left in my scoops to build a castle for two.