A funereal drink


My coffee penance is a worse penance than even I deserve. Most mornings the black coffee has notes of a nutty tobacco juice squeezed from the poo of a troll. Some mornings are worse. I drink the acidic byproduct because I must; I try not to think about it too much.

But the truly awful thing about this experiment in mortification is that when I put half-and-half and a teaspoon of sugar in my coffee on Sunday mornings, it isn’t the ecstasy I remember. Maybe more sugar and a Red Bird would do it for me? I don’t know. In the words of the greatest president ever: Sad.

Coffee, my love, what have I done? / Took you for granted; now you’re gone. / By leaving, I chose to be poor / And lost, unable to return / To your electric touch, to your / Sweet bitterness, your silver urn. / Coffee, my love, what have I done? / Wrecked waking’s reason; stole the sun.


2 thoughts on “A funereal drink

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s