I sipped my latte, half-watched fingers of smoke tickle the window

more about me.


i don’t know how i know you, & i know we’ve never met.

i know you’re miles away, but

with a single word, or two, maybe a phrase and i feel your heartache on the tattered couch beside me,

and my hand’s on your knee, lightly, just present with someone I don’t know at all.

i know you started crying in the Rite-Aid, while I looked at you over the aspirin.

And that you read Bukowski with puffy eyes, I sipped my latte, half-watched fingers of smoke tickle the window, watched you, wondered, why?

Lonely, nowhere to go, lost on the streets of Manhattan. It tells more about me than you

that i know just your few words, and I am your tragic lover, on the couch & in the café our distance greater than the miles,

wanting to touch your heart across a gap I don’t know how to cross.

so let’s wrap our arms in long sleeves and be thankful, and go our own ways, til the next word brings me there.

Mila (Jacob Stetser)

Mila is a writer, photographer, poet & technologist.

He shares here his thoughts on Buddhism, living compassionately, social media, building community,
& anything else that interests him.

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  1. Jake this is awesome. I love the first stanza. Is the first stanza a haiku?

    You’re a great writer.

    Jason Baumann