How He Served Cold Tea

Her eyes held
the same contempt.
Their reflections
mired in the puddle,
her pollen filled words
landing on his back,
and he brushed them off
like a discarded book
jacket.
No amount
of tugging
them around herself
could warm her
as he crushed
a wet cigarette
beneath his boot,
and she felt
her insides
discolor the rain.