Coffee on 10 Hygiea

We stared, lightyears distant
Between two crumpled, coffecups
Half-filled with thoughts unspoken.
Behind glass-paned walls reflecting
Random passerbys, unknowing
Of our black-holed emotions
And caffein-fueled symphaties,
We spoke of dimensional theories
On how stars die in a vacuum,
Or how nebulaic clouds form rain

.... And you said, “No regrets”
There's my time machine, I replied.
If you need it.