Of Innocence and Coffee..of Bugs and Being...Of Stares and Horizons..
There was a roach in my coffee,
and like many mornings before,
I did not drink my coffee..
Too much of a rich texture
an acidic coating along the esophageal
to think of roaches and coffee,
or coffee without roaches..
Every now and again,
you can find me staring off
into the distance somewhere..
Not speaking, or listening..
barely breathing in-fact..
It's not a point of being or feeling,
but a thick coated stare across the horizon..
The eyes placid..squinted..peering in a direction that
Sometimes, I wonder why I don't drink
coffee like everyone else..
and Sometimes the horizon grows like a bloated
vision..a lamb's intestine full of stale beer and it's a brown kind
of innocence..that has been left out, spoiled over night and time...
and big greedy bugs crawling to die within...
Return to Index