.1 coffee

black.
white.
strong.
weak.
in a mug,
a flask,
or a cardboard cup.
with sugar,
cream,
liquor-
or just as it comes...

undefiled.


we all have our coffee.
we talk over it,
work over it,
watch over it and listen over it,

awake over it,

sleep over it,

meet over it,

blog over it,
it becomes part of our lives, ingrained and habitual.


we come to rely on it-
this fuel to fill our systems,
to make them run
grow
tug
and churn,
and then empty again
to make room

for more fuel.


and yet all the while
the coffee is there.

it listens in to the convo,
it hears the breathing,
it feels the hesitations,
peaks at the exclamations,
troughs with the sighs.


the coffee is there.

it's sitting on our desk
or it's in the jar
or the vending machine.
always to hand.
or maybe the coffee is at somebody elses place,
in somebody else's jar,
and maybe you must do this
or that
or neither
if you are to reach the coffee,
because the coffee is only there at that time,
and if you're late
then you'll miss the coffee.

the cost-
too much?


still, the coffee is there.

now
wondering where you are.
it's been too long now
too far now
too tired
and too scared now
and somethings happened
which bleeds you dry-
the dripping
must stop
must heal the leakage
or
otherwise

just fuel me up again instead.


GUZZLE. GUZZLE.


like i said, we all have our coffee.
we all need our quick fix.




.
.
.
drip. rip.