I walk down Marylebone High Street
With rain-mist on wool, streetcars and my desire
To have a coffee and some cake.

Now a cafe, full of steam from conversations and cappuccino.
A romance with sweet things, with caffeine bean things.
Lines are forming and I wait with need.

Cold hands, warm mug, flourless chocolate cake
On white ceramic, a debit card fl ing brings me back.

My window seat, biting deep, sugar and butter sheen
My teeth and tongue make a sludge slide
Now landing.

Already they penetrate my blood
A shiver down and into my 57-year-old fix.
Milky-hot throat bath, addition prevailing.

Tummy clenches, a wounded creature.
Wings downed.

I swallow another, maybe this will taste better
Like before when my stomach was young and could
transmute.

In a moment of strength, I stand and escape the cafe dream
London life, food karma.

Now I walk in free reign.
And wander into a deeper desire.
Body soothed by inner Wolf-ma
Heated by my own volition

A rain-walk through Hyde Park
A line is forming between body and soul.
Butter-fly, free.