Wednesday, 6 June 2012


I like coffee.
I like the way it makes me rush
through things
makes my hands shake.
I like when I wake up
and my eyes are crusted with sleep
and coffee rushes in wakes them up.

I like when it becomes softly brown
with cream
and sometimes
a teaspoon of sugar
if I’m feeling mean.

I like that it’s good hot and cold,
not like me,
not like when my moods shift
from hot to cold.

Coffee is good when you need
to say
and it reaches
for your hand with quivers.
It is especially good when
it’s in that large mug
in your large hands
spending time
with the morning paper.

I like coffee most
when it is in a white mug
one of the ones from the 60’s
(the ones in small diners)
and I’m sitting across from you.
I like watching the cream packet
swirl and mix with the watery brown
liquid that is almost always
bad coffee.
But this is my favourite kind of coffee,
the coffee I have with you.

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