un is three o’clock in the morning,
ensnared in your bed sheets,
for tossing and turning all night,
longing for something you know you will never have.
deux is a bitch taunting you with her curves.
deux is an unreachable dream; she runs her forked tongue
across her cherry red lips and smiles at you –
and you know that she will never love you.
trois café, s’il vous plait will never sound as right as deux café,
because trois is a triangular merry-go-round
that one would eventually fall out of.
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