the only bad part
about enjoying coffee in the morning
is the moment when
there are naught but dregs in the bottom
and you have to admit
there is no more coffee to drink
in your mug.
[but, if you’re lucky, there’s more in the pot
where it all came from
and you can enjoy more
right there and then
from whence the first cup came from,
or in an hour (or so)
if you prefer your coffee
cold]
why
do i so often feel like
coffee is my only friend?
i have many close companions,
even more friendly acquaintances
that i’ve bared my soul to
at a moment or two,
but when left to my own tired devices
in early mornings or late late nights
with no one around
i think to myself “coffee, you’re the only one
i can turn to,
the only one
who understands
the truth of my heart
and the heart of my mind”
it’s so silly to think this way
about an inanimate
ingestible
thing
[whose main cause for being
is the caffeine, which barely affects me
so…even sillier, it seems
to pray at the altar of this
bitter black bean juice
but damn, that seems to be
my only religion
and i stand by it]
i completely forgot
for a moment there
that some people drink
hot things
in the morning
and i got so confused
and concerned
seeing some sort of gas roiling
above kip’s mug
but it’s just steam
from their tea
how silly of me
how silly of me
it always feels so strange to me
when i can acutely feel the effects of
whatever is waking me up
actively waking me up
whether it’s writing poetry
or drinking coffee
or water
just recognizing my body and brain
slowly opening up
and letting the day in
like a flower in the sunshine
[we are all far more nature
than we
realize]
how
and why
and when
and why do i just want
another cup of coffee
to just chill with
coffee
and cold brew
are like old friends i come back to
every single morning
and though ‘old companions’ are more likely to be ones
whom you don’t see for months or years at a time
it really does feel like a hug that has been waiting
for at least 365 days
when i take that first sip in the morning
the first sip of coffee
creates quite the placebo effect in me —
i know my genetics don’t react that much
to caffeine
nor could the actual waking effect
happen while the liquid
is still in my mouth, but damn
simply tasting
and swallowing
this delicious brown bean soup
kicks my awareness
into overdrive
and i actually feel
kinda awake and alive
for the first time
the first moment
in the day
coffee is life
coffee is water
coffee is made of water
but it also dehydrates
but it also invigorates
and incorporates happiness where once there was none
coffee’s bitterness
comforts those accustomed to its sweeter kiss
the kiss of caffeine and morningtime
the kiss of smooth slides down the throat
the kiss of routine and hundreds of years of
awakened
creative
flow
coffee-filled condensation
drips from the tentacle
of my one-of-a-kind
hand-made
oversized
coffee
mug
and i try to rescue it
bringing as much of the drop as i can
from side
to finger
to mouth
but there’s still condensation
from cold fridge
to warm house
dichotomies
exchanging
vibes
and i’m glad i don’t have to worry about coasters for this table
much
so cold
too cold to think
too cold to do much else
but obsess about the cold
~~~
apparently that poem is too true
my brain has short-circuited
and i ponder things other than the cold
but they only flit in and out
as my body gets used to the
inside heat once more
(even though it’s not nearly as heated
as my freeze-baby body would prefer)
(and that’s still with snow pants and a sweater on)
(but will i stop drinking this ice-cold coffee?
absolutely not.)
~~~
fake fireplace
give me warmth
flicker your rolling light flames
and force heated air towards my
shivering bod
my one solace in the wintertime
kipventures 