Cowardly lunch

Midday the new midnight:
apparitions, superstitions, threats
Lunch grows colder in the mouth
Dusty nightstand coffee
The day’s second half
teeters like a breaking branch
that ping! Becomes a mere
twig on the head.
Still alive. I begin to look for you
in there. Are you ok?
You, asleep in my mind
all morning. Did I wake you?
No? Well why not? Talk to me.
I’m lonely. How often have I had
to say.