7. Sometimes Coffee Tastes Like

Sometimes coffee tastes like kindness.

Like when you don’t bring cash

to your favorite cash-only coffee shop

because you’ve been away for a long time

and you tell the barista apologetically

that you only have abstract money at the moment

and she gives you a warm cup of decaf,

with carmel and room for cream,

anyway.

Other times, coffee tastes like comfort,

like your dad’s favorite dark roast

brewed black as night

first thing in the morning,

like he’s done as long as you can remember.

Then again,

sometimes coffee tastes like desperation,

sitting in the desolate dining hall saturday morning,

caffiene-infused piss-water clutched in both hands,

musing upon the king your brother’s wreck

and on your impending wreck alongside him.

problems:

“alongisde” is weak, but there has to be words there to take up that many pulses.

“like he’s done” is grammatically incorrect

i don’t really know what this form is doing. it’s just kind of chillin’. i think this one goes in the pile of shame. the stanzas alone are alright, but they need stitching and balance, and probably at least two additional stanzas to make a cohesive unit.

but hey. another poem down.